RUTH    HALL: 


DOMESTIC     TALE 


OF 


THE      PRESENT      TIME 


BY 

FANNY    FERN. 


N  E  W    Y  O  R  K  : 

PUBLISHED    BY    MASOX    BROTHERS. 
1855. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854, 
BY  MASON  BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk'a  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


STEREOTYPED    BT 

THOMAS   B.    SMITH, 
216  William  St,  N.  Y. 


PRINTED     BY 

JOHN    A.    GRAY, 
95  &  97  Cliff  St. 


P  R  E  F  A  0  E . 


I 


TO    TUB    KKADER. 

PRESENT   you  with   my  first  continuous   story. 

1  do  not  dignify  it  by  the  name  of  "  A  novel." 
I  am  aware  that  it  is  entirely  at  variance  with 
all  set  rules  for  novel-writing.  There  is  no  in 
tricate  plot  ;  there  are  no  startling  develop 
ments,  no  hair-breadth  escapes.  I  have  compressed 
into  one  volume  what  I  might  have  expanded  into 
two  or  three.  I  have  avoided  long  introduc 
tions  and  descriptions,  and  have  entered  uncere 
moniously  and  unannounced,  into  people's  houses, 
without  stopping  to  ring  the  bell.  Whether  you 
will  fancy  this  primitive  mode  of  calling,  whether 
you  will  like  the  company  to  which  it  introduces 
you,  or — whether  you  will  like  the  book  at  all,  I 


IV  PREFACE. 

cannot  tell.  Still,  I  cherish  the  hope  that,  some 
where  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  it 
may  fan  into  a  flame,  in  some  tried  heart,  the 
fading  embers  of  hope,  well-nigh  extinguished  by 
wintry  fortune  and  summer  friends. 

FANNY  FERN. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  T. 

THE  EVE  BEFORE  THE  BRIDAL — RUTH\S  LITTLE  ROOM — A  RETRO 
SPECTIVE    REVERIE 15 

CLIAPTKR   II. 

TJ110    AVEDiiiNi; — A     GLIMPSE    ()!•'    THE     rilAEUTEU    OF    RUTIl'd 

BROTHER  HYAl'iXlTI 23 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  NEW  HOME — SOLILOQUY  OF  THE  MOTHEK-IX-LAW      .  .  25 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  FIRST  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE   liOTUEIMX-LAW      ...         28 

CHAPTER  V. 

RUTH'S   REFLECTIOXS   OX   THE   INTERVIEW      ....  32 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A  HIT  OF  FAMILY  HISTORY  .......         34 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  FIRST-BORX  .  39 


Tl  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  NURSE 41 

CHAPTER  IX.  ' 

FURTHER  DEVELOPMENTS    OP   THE    MOTHER-IN-LAW'S    CHARAC 
TER 44 

CHAPTER  X. 

RUTH'S  COUNTRY  HOME 47 

CHAPTER  XL 

RUTH  AND  DAISY 50 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  OLD   FOLKS  FOLLOW  THE    YOUNG    COUPLE — AN  ENTERTAIN 
ING  DIALOGUE 52 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  OLD  LADY'S  SURREPTITIOUS  VISIT  TO  RUTH'S,  AND  HER  EN 
COUNTER  WITH  DINAH 55 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  OLD  LADY  SEARCHES   THE   HOUSE — WHAT   SHE   FINDS  .         5D 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  OLD   DOCTOR  MEDDLES  WITH   HARRY'S   FARMING  ARRANGE 
MENTS 63 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

LITTLE  DAISY'S  REVERIE — HER  STRANGE  PLAYFELLOW        .  .         65 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  PAT  "  MUTINIES  67 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  GROWL  FROM  THE  OLD    LADY 69 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
DAISY'S  GLEE  AT  THE  FIRST  SLEIGH-RIDE        ....  72 

CHAPTER  XX. 

DAISY'S  ILLNESS — THE    OLD  DOCTOR  REFUSES   TO  COME        .  .         71 

CHAPTER  XXL 
DINAH'S  WARNING — HARRY  GOES  AGAIN  FOR  THE  DOCTOR     .          78 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  OLD  DOCTOR  ARRIVES  TOO  LATE 81 

CHAPTER  XX III. 

"THE  GLEN"  DESERTED — THE  OLD  DOCTOR'S  AND  HIS  WIFE'S 
VERSION  OF  THE  CAUSE  OF  DAISY'S  DEATH — MRS.  JONES 

GIVES   HER  OriNION 85 

CHAPTER  XXI V. 
ANNIVERSARY   OF  DAISY'S  DEATH — RUTH'S   REVERIE — LITTLE 

KATY'S  REQUEST 90 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

HOTEL   LIFE — A  NEW  FRIEND 93 

• 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE     FALL     OF    THE     LEAF — HARRY'S    ILLNESS — THE     LONELY 

WATCHER 97 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
ARRIVAL  OF  THE  OLD  DOCTOR  AND  HIS  WIFE  .  .  .  102 


Viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

TilE  OLD  DOCTOR'S   ANNOUNCEMENT  —  HARRY'S  DEATH         .  .       105 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
HYACINTH'S  SENSIBILITIES  SHOCKED     .....        110 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

MISS  SKINLIN  .........       H4 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
HARRY'S  FUNERAL       ........        1-0 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
A  SERVANT'S  DEVOTION    ........     123 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

BICKERINGS    OF    THE    FATHER    AND    FATHER-IN-LAW  —  DISPUTE 

ABOUT  THE  SUPPORT  OF  THE   CHILDREN  .  .  .  125 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

RUTH  RECEIVES  A  VISIT  FROM  HER  FATHER  —  HE  INSISTS  ON 
HER  GIVING  UP  HER  CHILDREN  TO  THE  OLD  DOCTOR  — 
RUTH'S  REFUSAL  ........  128 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE   OLD   LADY,  ENRAGED,    PROPOSES   A   COMPROMISE  —  MR.    EL- 

LET  IS  FORCED  TO  ACCEDE      ......  132 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

RUTH'S  NEW  LODGINGS  —  SPECULATIONS  OF  THE   BOARDERS  .      139 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
MR.  DEVELIN'S  COUNTING-HOUSE  —  THE  OLD  DOCTOR'S  LETTER    142 


CONTENTS.  1- 

CHAPTER  XXX VI II. 

LITTLE  KATY  MOURNS  FOR  HER  PAPA  ....  1-16 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

MR.  DEVKLIN  DEMANDS  HARRY'S   CLOTHES  OF   RUTH — THE  WED 
DING  VEST 148 

CHAPTER  XL. 

RUTH'S  APPLICATION  FOR  NEEDLE-WORK          .  .  .  .  151 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

DISGUST  OF  RUTH'S  FASHIONABLE  FRIENDS  .  .  .  .155 

CHAPTER  XL1I. 

CONVERSATION  IN  MRS.  MILLET'S   KITCHEN      .  .  .  .  158 

CHAPTER  XL11I. 

THE  BOUQUET 161 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

MRS.  MILLET  AND  THE  AVOODEN  MAN 16-4 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

LITTLE  KATY  VISITS  HER  GRANDPA  AND  MEETS  WITH  A  CHARAC 
TERISTIC  RECEPTION — THE  STRANGE  GENTLEMAN          .  .      1GG 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

A  PEEP  FROM  RUTH'S  CHAMBER  WINDOW — KATY'S  RETURN      .  171 

CHAPTER  XLVIL 

BOARDING-HOUSE     REVOLUTION — MRS.     SKIDDY'S    FLIGHT — MR. 

SKIDDY  IN   THE  CAPACITY  OF   DRY  NURSE  .  .  .       1VG 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

A    NEW    IDEA — THE   MILLETS  EXHIBIT  THEIR   FRIENDSHIP  AND 

DELICACY 184 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

RUTH  RESOLVES  TO  BECOME  A  TEACHER 189 

CHAPTER  L. 

RUTH  APPLIES  FOR  A  PRIMARY  SCHOOL  .  .  .  .  191 

CHAPTER  LI. 

THE  EXAMINATION  BY  THE   SCHOOL   COMMITTEE  .  .  .192 

CHAPTER  LII. 
MRS.  SKIDDY'S  UNEXPECTED  RETURN 198 

CHAPTER  LIII. 

IKIDDY'S  INTERCEPTED  HEGIRA — HIS  INCARCERATION — HIS  FI 
NAL  ESCAPE 203 

CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE  LUNATIC  ASYLUM 209 

CHAPTER  LV. 

RUTH'S  NEW  LANDLADY  * 215 

CHAPTER  LYI. 

THE  STRANGE  LODGER — RUTH  RESOLVES  TO  RESORT  TO  HER  PEN 
TO  OBTAIN  A  SUBSISTENCE — SHE  APPLIES  TO  HER  BROTHER 
HYACINTH  FOR  ADVICE  AND  ASSISTANCE — HIS  CHARACTER 
ISTIC  REPLY  ,  ...  -  .  .  .  .  219 

CHAPTER  LV1I. 

THE    OLD    LADY    RESORTS    TO    STRATAGEM,  AND    CARRIES    HER 

POINT  ,      224 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  LVIIL 

MR,  ELLET  EXHIBITS  HIS  USUAL  FATHERLY  INTEREST  IN  RUTH'S 

AFFAIRS 228 

CHAPTER  LIX. 

RUTH  APPLIES  FOR  EMPLOYMENT  AT  NEWSPAPER  OFFICES  .      230 

CHAPTER   LX. 

THE  BREAD   OF  LIFE 235 

CHAPTER  LXL 

A  CHAPTER  WHICH  MAY  BE  INSTRUCTIVE  .  .  .  .      23  f 

CHAPTER  LXII. 

RUTH  OBTAINS  EMPLOYMENT — ILLNESS  OF  NETTIE — THE  STRANGE 

LODGER  PROVES  USEFUL          .  ...  2-10 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 

A  PEEP  INTO  THE  OLD  DOCTOR'S  COTTAGE      ....   245 

CHAPTER  LXIV. 

A  GLIMPSE   OP   COMING  SUCCESS 251 

CHAPTER  LXV. 
LITTLE  NETTIE'S  SORROWS — CHEERING  LETTERS        .        .        .257 

CHAPTER   LXVI. 
KATY'S  FIRST  DAY  AT  SCHOOL — THE  TOWN-PUMP  CONTROVERSY 

— CRUELTY  OF  KATY'S  GRANDPARENTS          .        .        .         262 

CHAPTER  LXYII. 

MR.   JOHN  WALTER 26T 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

A  LETTEE  FROM  MR.  WALTER,  AND   ITS  EFFECT       .  .  .  21 1 

CHAPTER  LXIX. 

BUTH   ENGAGES  TO  WRITE   SOLELY  FOR  THE   HOUSEHOLD   MES 
SENGER  218 

CHAPTER  LXX. 

WHAT  MR.  LESCOM  SAID 282 

CHAPTER  LXXI. 
A  SHARP  CORRESPONDENCE 281 

CHAPTER  LXXII. 

OFFERS  OF  MARRIAGE  AND  OFFERS  TO  PUBLISH   .     .         292 

CHAPTER  LXXIII. 

WHAT   MR.   TIBBETTS   SAID   ABOUT    RUTH'S    WRITING    FOR   THE 

HOUSEHOLD  MESSENGER     .  .  .  .          •  .  .298 

CHAPTER  LXXIY. 

SOLILOQUY  OF  A  SUB-EDITOR 302 

CHAPTER  LXXY. 
MR.  WALTER'S  VISIT        .        . 309 

CHAPTER  LXXVI. 

THE  PHRENOLOGICAL  EXAMINATION 318 

CHAPTER  LXXVH. 

PUBLICATION  DAY  COMES  AT  LAST     .  ,      330 


CONTENTS.  Xlil 

CHAPTER  LXXYIH. 

HYACINTH  CORNERED 33-i 

CHAPTER  LXXIX. 

MR.    LEWIS   ENLIGHTENED 338 

CHAPTER    LXXX. 

MORE    LETTERS 


CHAPTER  LXXXI. 

FRESHET  IN  THE  DOCTOR'S  CELLAR — "  HAMS"  IN  DANGER  OF  A 
TOTAL  WRECK — SUDDEN  APPEARANCE  OF  RUTH — RESCUE 
OF  LITTLE  KATY 348 

CHAPTER  LXXXI L 

ARRIVAL  OF  KATY  WITH  HER  MOTHER,  MR.  WALTER,  AND  MR. 
GREY,  AT  NEW  LODGINGS  ;  DINNER  AND  LETTERS — CONVER 
SATIONS  BETWEEN  THE  CHILDREN  ....  354 

CHAPTER  LXXXIII. 

THE    LITTLE   FAMILY  ALONE  AT  THEIR   NEW  QUARTERS — NETTIE 

IN  THE  CONFESSION  BOX — KATY'S  MIRTH  367 


CHAPTER  LXXXIV. 

KATY  AND  NETTIE  COMPARE  NOTES — RUTH  DREAMS — MIDNIGHT 
CONFLAGRATION — RESCUE  OF  THE  LITTLE  FAMILY  BY  JOHN 
NY  GALT 372 

CHAPTER  LXXXY. 

TEA-TABLE    TALK    BETWEEN     "  THE    WOODEN     MAN"    AND    HIS 

SPOUSE — LETTER  FROM  (i  OUR  JOHN"  .      378 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  LXXXVI. 

THE   OLD  LADY  EXTINGUISHED  IN  A  CONVERSATION  WITH   HER 
NEIGHBORS,  WHO  ANNOUNCE  THE  ASTONISHING  FACT  THAT 

'  FLOY'  is  RUTH 383 

CHAPTER  LXXXVII. 

CONVERSATION   BETWEEN   RUTH'S  FATHER  AND   MR.  JONES  RE 
GARDING  RUTH'S  LITERARY  DEBUT 388 

CHAPTER  LXXXYIII. 

INTERVIEW    BETWEEN    THE    LITERARY    BOOKSELLER    AND    MR. 

WALTER 391 

CHAPTER  LXXXIX. 

ARRIVAL    OF   MR.    WALTER — BANK   STOCK  AND  BANK  CERTIFI 
CATE          394 

CHAPTER  XC. 

THE   LAST  VISIT   TO   HARRY'S  GRAVE  398 


CHAPTER  I. 

rjlHE  old  church  clock  rang  solemnly  out  on  the  mid- 
•*-  night  air.  Ruth  started.  For  hours  she  had  sat  there, 
leaning  her  cheek  upon  her  hand,  and  gazing  through  the 
open  space  between  the  rows  of  brick  walls,  upon  the 
sparkling  waters  of  the  bay,  glancing  and  quivering  'neath 
the  moon-beams.  The  city's  busy  hum  had  long  since 
died  away ;  myriad  restless  eyes  had  closed  in  peaceful 
slumber;  Ruth  could  not  sleep.  This  was  the  last 
time  she  would  sit  at  that  little  window.  The  morrow 
\vould  find  her  in  a  home  of  her  own.  On  the  morrow 
Ruth  would  be  a  bride. 

Ruth  was  not  sighing  because  she  was  about  to  leave 
her  father's  roof,  (for  her  childhood  had  been  anything 
but  happy,)  but  she  was  vainly  trying  to  look  into  a 
future,  which  God  has  mercifully  veiled  from  curious 
eyes.  Had  that  craving  heart  of  her's  at  length  found  its 
ark  of  refugo  ?  Would  clouds  or  sunshine,  joy  or  sorrow, 


16  RUT  II      HALL. 

tears  or  smiles,  predominate  in  her  future  1  Who  could 
tell  ?  The  silent  stars  returned  her  no  answer.  Would 
a  harsh  word  ever  fall  from  lips  which  now  breathed  only 
love  ?  Would  the  step  whose  lightest  footfall  now  made 
her  heart  leap,  ever  sound  in  her  ear  like  a  death-knell  1 
As  time,  with  its  ceaseless  changes,  rolled  on,  would  love 
flee  affrighted  from  the  bent  form,  and  silver  locks,  and 
faltering  footstep?  Was  there  no  talisman  to  keep 
him? 

"Strange  questions,"  were  they,  "for  a  young  girl!" 
Ah,  but  Kuth  could  remember  when  she  was  no  taller 
than  a  rosebush,  how  cravingly  her  little  heart  cried 
out  for  love !  How  a  careless  word,  powerless  to  wound 
one  less  sensitive,  would  send  her,  weeping,  to  that 
little  room  for  hours ;  and,  young  as  she  was,  life's 
pains  seemed  already  more  to  her  than  life's  pleasures. 
Would  it  always  be  so  ?  Would  she  find  more  thorns 
than  roses  in  her  future  pathway  ? 

Then,  Ruth  remembered  how  she  used  to  wish  she 
were  beautiful, — not  that  she  might  be  admired,  but  that 
V  she  might  be  loved.  But  Ruth  was  "  very  plain," — so 
her  brother  Hyacinth  told  her,  and  "  awkward,"  too ; 
she  had  heard  that  ever  since  she  could  remember ;  and 
the  recollection  of  it  dyed  her  cheek  with  blushes,  when 
ever  a  stranger  made  his  appearance  m  the  home  circle. 

So,  Ruth  was  fonder  of  being  alone  by  herself;  and 
then,  they  called  her  "  odd,"  and  "  queer,"  and  wondered 


R  U  T  11        HALL.  17 

if  she  would  "  ever  make  anything  ;"  and  Ruth  used  to 
wonder,  too  ;  and  sometimes  she  asked  herself  why 
a  sweet  strain  of  music,  or  a  fine  passage  in  a  poem, 
made  her  heart  thrill,  and  her  whole  frame  quiver  with 
emotion  ? 

The  world  smiled  on  her  brother  Hyacinth.     lie  was 
handsome,  and   gifted.     He   could  win    fame,  and  what   < 
\fcs  better,  love.    Ruth  washed  he  would  love  her  a  little,  y 
She  often  used  to  steal  into  his  room  and  '•  right "  his  pa 
pers,  when  the  stupid  housemaid  had  displaced  them;  and 
often  she  would  prepare  him  a  tempting  little  lunch,  and 
carry  it  to  his  room,  on  his   return   from   his   morning 
walk ;    but    Hyacinth  would    only  say,  '•  Oh,  it    is  you, 
Ruth,  is  it '?     I  thought  it  was  Bridget ;:?  and  go  on  read 
ing  his  newspaper. 

Ruth's  mother  was  dead.  Ruth  did  not  remember  a 
great  deal  about  her — only  that  she  always  looked  un 
easy  about  the  time  her  father  was  expected  home ;  and 
when  his  step  was  heard  in  the  hall,  she  would  say  in  a, 
whisper,  to  Hyacinth  and  herself,  "  Hush  !  hush  !  your 
father  is  coming  ;"  and  then  Hyacinth  would  immediately 
stop  whistling,  or  humming,  and  Ruth  would  run  up  into 
her  little  room,  for  fear  she  should,  in  some  unexpected 
way,  get  into  disgrace. 

Ruth,  also,  remembered  when  her  father  came  home 
and  found  company  to  tea,  how  he  frowned  and  com 
plained  of  headache,  although  he  always  ate  as  heartily  as 


18  RUTH       HALL. 

any  of  the  company  ;  and  how  after  tea  he  would  stretch 
himself  out  upon  the  sofa  and  say,  "  I  think  I  '11  take  a 
nap ;"  and  then,  he  would  close  his  eyes,  and  if  the  com 
pany  commenced  talking,  he  would  start  up  and  say  to 
Ruth,  who  was  sitting  very  still  in  the  corner,  "Ruth,  don't 
make  such  a  noise ;"  and  when  Ruth's  mother  would 
whisper  gently  in  his  ear,  "  Would  n't  it  be  better,  dear, 
if  you  laid  down  up  stairs  ?  it  is  quite  comfortable  and 
quiet  there,"  her  father  would  say,  aloud,  "  Oh  yes,  oh 
yes,  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,  do  you  f  And  then  her 
mother  would  say,  turning  to  the  company,  "  How  very 
fond  Mr.  Ellet  is  of  a  joke !"  But  Ruth  remembered 
that  her  mother  often  blushed  when  she  said  so,  and  that 
her  laugh  did  not  sound  natural. 

After  her  mother's  death,  Ruth  was  sent  to  boarding- 
school,  where  she  shared  a  room  with  four  strange  girls, 
who  laid  awake  all  night,  telling  the  most  extraordinary 
stories,  and  ridiculing  Ruth  for  being  such  an  old  maid 
that  she  could  not  see  "  where  the  laugh  came  in."  Equal 
ly  astonishing  to  the  unsophisticated  Ruth,  was  the  de- 
mureness  with  which  they  would  bend  over  their  books 
when  the  pale,  meek-eyed  widow,  employed  as  duenna, 
went  the  rounds  after  tea,  to  see  if  each  inmate  was  pre 
paring  the  next  day's  lessons,  and  the  coolness  with  which 
they  would  jump  up,  on  her  departure,  put  on  their 
bonnets  and  shawls,  and  slip  out  at  the  side-street  door 
to  meet  expectant  lovers ;  and  when  the  pale  widow 


R  U  T  H       H  A  L  L  .  19 

went  the  rounds  again  at  nine  o'clock,  she  would  find 
them  demurely  seated,  just  where  she  left  them,  appar 
ently  busily  conning  their  lessons  !  Ruth  wondered  if  all 
girls  were  as  mischievous,  and  if  fathers  and  mothers 
ever  stopped  to  think  what  companions  their  daughters 
would  have  for  room-mates  and  bed-fellows,  when  they 
sent  them  away  from  home.  As  to  the  Principal,  Mad 
ame  Moreau,  she  contented  herself  with  sweeping  her 
flounces,  once  a  day,  through  the  recitation  rooms ;  so  it 
was  not  a  difficult  matter,  in  so  large  an  establishment,  to 
pass  muster  with  the  sub-teachers  at  recitations. 

Composition  day  was  the  general  bugbear.  Ruth's 
madcap  room-mates  were  struck  with  the  most  unquali 
fied  amazement  and  admiration  at  the  facility  with  which 
"  the  old  maid  "  executed  this  frightful  task.  They  soon  y 
learned  to  put  her  services  in  requisition  ;  first,  to  help 
them  out  of  this  slough  of  despond  ;  next,  to  save  them 
the  necessity  of  wading  in  at  all,  by  writing  their  compo 
sitions  for  them. 

In  the  all-absorbing  love  affairs  which  were  constantly 
going  on  between  the  young  ladies  of  Madame  Moreau's 
school  and  their  respective  admirers,  Ruth  took  no  inter 
est  ;  and  on  the  occasion  of  the  unexpected  reception  of  a 
bouquet,  from  a  smitten  swain,  accompanied  by  a  copy  of 
amatory  verses,  Ruth  crimsoned  to  her  temples  and  burst 
into  tears,  that  any  one  could  be  found  so  heartless  as  to 
burlesque  the  "  awkward "  Ruth.  Simple  child !  She 


20  R  U  T  II       II  A  L  L  . 

was  unconscious  that,  in  the  freedom  of  that  atmosphere 
where  a  "  prophet  out  of  his  own  country  is  honored," 
her  lithe  form  had  rounded  into  symmetry  and  grace, 
her  slow  step  had  become  light  and  elastic,  her  eye 
bright,  her  smile  winning,  and  her  voice  soft  and  melodi 
ous.  Other  bouquets,  other  notes,  and  glances  of  involun 
tary  admiration  from  passers-by,  at  length  opened  her 
eyes  to  the  fact,  that  she  was  "  plain,  awkward  Ruth  "  no 
v  longer.  Eureka  !  She  had  arrived  at  the  first  epoch  in 
\  a  young  girl's  life, — she  had  found  out  her  power  !  Her 
manners  became  ^assured  and  self-possessed.  She,  Ruth, 
could  inspire  love !  Life  became  dear  to  her.  There 
was  something  worth  living  for — something  to  look  for 
ward  to.  She  had  a  motive — an  aim ;  she  should  some 
day  make  somebody's  heart  glad, — somebody's  hearth 
stone  bright ;  somebody  should  be  proud  of  her ;  and  oh, 
how  she  could  love  that  somebody  !  History,  astronomy, 
mathematics,  the  languages,  were  all  pastime  now.  Life 
wore  a  new  aspect ;  the  skies  were  bluer,  the  earth  green 
er,  the  flowers  more  fragrant; — her  twin-soul  existed 
somewhere. 

When  Ruth  had  been  a  year  at  school,  her  elegant 
brother  Hyacinth  came  to  see  her.  Ruth  dashed 
down  her  books,  and  bounded  down  three  stairs  at  a 
time,  to  meet  him ;  for  she  loved  him,  poor  child,  just 
as  well  as  if  he  were  worth  loving.  Hyacinth  drew 
languidly  back  a  dozen  paces,  and  holding  up  his 


RUTH       HALL. 


21 


hands,  drawled  out  imploringly.,  "  kiss  me  if  you 
insist  on  it,  Ruth,  but  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  tumble 
my  dickey."  He  also  remarked,  that  her  shoes  were 
too  large  for  her  feet,  and  that  her  little  French  apron 
was  "  slightly  askew  ;"  and  told  her,  whatever  else  she 
omitted,  to  be  sure  to  learn  "  to  waltz."  He  was  then 
introduced  to  Madame  Moreau,  who  remarked  to  Mad 
ame  Chicchi,  her  Italian  teacher,  what  a  very  distingue 
looking  person  he  was ;  after  which  he  yawned  several 
times,  then  touched  his  hat  gracefully,  praised  "  the 
very  superior  air  of  the  establishment,"  brushed  an  im 
perceptible  atom  of  dust  from  his  beaver,  kissed  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  to  his  demonstrative  sister,  and  tip 
toed  Terpsichoreally  over  the  academic  threshold. 

In  addition  to  this,  Ruth's  father  wrote  occasionally 
when  a  term-bill  became  due,  or  when  his  tradesmen's 
bills  came  in,  on  the  first  of  January ;  on  which  occa 
sion  an  annual  lit  of  poverty  seized  him,  an  alms- 
house  loomed  up  in  perspective,  he  reduced  the  wages 
of  his  cook  two  shillings,  and  advised  Ruth  either  to 
get  married  or  teach  school. 

Three  years  had  passed  under  Madame  Moreau's  roof  ;\ 
Ruth's  schoolmates  wondering  the  while  why  she  took  \ 
so  much  pains  to  bother  her  head  with  those  stupid  j 
books,  when  she  was  every  day  growing  prettier,  and/' 
all  the  world  knew  that  it  was  quite  unnecessary  for  a 
pretty  woman  to  be  clever.  When  Ruth  once  more 


22  RUTH       HALL. 

crossed  the  paternal  threshold,  Hyacinth  levelled  his 
eye-glass  at  her,  and  exclaimed,  "  'Pon  honor,  Ruth, 
you  Ve  positively  had  a  narrow  escape  from  being  hand 
some."  Whether  old  Mr.  Ellet  was  satisfied  with  her 
physical  and  mental  progress,  Ruth  had  no  means  of 
knowing. 

And  now,  as  we  have  said  before,  it  is  the  night  be 
fore  Ruth's  bridal ;  and  there  she   sits,  though   the  old 
church  bell  has  long  since  chimed  the  midnight   hour, 
gazing  at  the  moon,  as  she  cuts  a  shining  path  through 
/'the  waters ;  and  trembling,  while  she  questions  the  dim, 
1  uncertain  future.     Tears,  Ruth  ?     Have  phantom  shapes 
.'of  terror  glided  before  those  gentle  prophet  eyes  ?     Has 
<   death's  dark  wing  even  now  fanned  those  girlish  tem- 
\ples? 


CHAPTER   II. 

TT  was  so  odd  in  Ruth  to  have  no  one  but  the  family 
at  the  wedding.  It  was  just  one  of  her  queer  freaks ! 
Where  was  the  use  of  her  white  satin  dress  and  orange 
wreath  ?  what  the  use  of  her  looking  handsomer  than 
she  ever  did  before,  v/lieii  there  was  nobody  there  to 
see  her?" 

"  Nobody  to  s',e  her  ?"  Mark  r/uit  manly  form  at 
her  side  ;  see  h;.s  dark  eye  glisten,  p,nd  his  chiselled  lip 
quiver,  as  he  be.oas  an  earnest  gaw  on  her  who  realizes 
all  his  boyhood  dreams.  Mistaken  ones  !  it  is  not  ad 
miration  which  that  young  beating  heart  craves ;  it  is 
love. 

"  A  very  fine-looking,  presentable  fellow,"  said  Hya- 
.cinth,  as  the  carriage  rolled  away  with  his  new  brother- 
in-law.  "  Really,  love  is  a  great  beautifier.  Ruth  looked 
quite  handsome  to-night.  Lord  bless  me !  how  im 
mensely  tiresome  it  must  be  to  sit  opposite  the  same 
face  three  times  a  day,  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 


24  R  U  T  H       H  A  L  L  . 

days  in  a  year !  I  should  weary  of  Venus  herself.  I  'm 
glad  my  handsome  brother-in-law  is  in  such  good  cir 
cumstances.  Duns  are  a  bore.  I  must  keep  on  the 
right  side  of  him.  Tom,  was  that  tailor  here  again 
yesterday  1  Did  you  tell  him  I  was  out  of  town  ? 
Eight,  Tom." 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  TTTELL,  I  hope  Harry  will  be  happy,"  said  Ruth's 
*  ^  mother-in-law,  old  Mrs.  Hall,  as  she  untied 
her  cap-strings,  and  seated  herself  in  the  newly-furnish 
ed  parlor,  to  await  the  coming  of  the  bride  and  bride 
groom.  "  I  can't  say,  though,  that  I  see  the  need  of  his 
being  married.  I  always  mended  his  socks.  Pie  has 
sixteen  bran  new  shirts,  eight  linen  and  eight  cotton. 
I  made  them  myself  out  of  the  Hamilton  long-cloth. 
Hamilton  long-cloth  is  good  cotton,  too ;  strong,  firm, 
and  wears  well.  Eight  cotton  and  eight  linen  shirts  ! 
Can  anybody  tell  what  he  got  married  for  ?  /  don't 
know.  If  he  tired  of  his  boarding-house,  of  course  he 
could  always  come  home.  As  to  Ruth,  I  don't  know 
anything  about  her.  Of  course  she  is  perfect  in  his 
eyes.  I  remember  the  time  when  he  used  to  think  me 
perfect.  I  suppose  I  shall  be  laid  on  the  shelf  now. 
Well,  what  beauty  he  can  find  in  that  pale,  golden 

2 


26  RUTH       HALL. 

hair,  and  those  blue-gray  eyes,  I  don't  know.  I  can't 
say  I  fancy  the  family  either.  Proud  as  Lucifer,  all 
of  'em.  Nothing  to  be  proud  of,  either.  The  father 
next  to  nothing  when  he  began  life.  The  son,  a  con 
ceited  jackanapes,  who  divides  his  time  between  writing 
rhymes  and  inventing  new  ties  for  his  cravat.  Well, 
well,  we  shall  see ;  but  I  doubt  if  this  bride  is  anything 
but  a  well-dressed  doll.  I  've  been  peeping  into  her 
bureau  drawers  to-day.  What  is  the  use  of  all  those 
ruffles  on  her  under-clothes,  I  'd  like  to  know  ?  Who  's 
going  to  wash  and  iron  them  1  Presents  to  her !  Well, 
why  don't  people  make  sensible  presents, — a  dozen  of 
dish  towels,  some  crash  rollers,  a  ball  of  wick-yarn,  or 
the  like  of  that  ?" 

"  O-o-oh  d-e-a-r !  there 's  the  carriage  !  Now,  for  one 
month  to  come,  to  say  the  least,  I  shall  be  made  per 
fectly  sick  with  their  billing  and  cooing.  I  should  n'l 
be  surprised  if  Harry  did  n't  speak  to  me  oftener  than 
once  a  day.  Had  he  married  a  practical  woman  1 
would  n't  have  cared — somebody  who  looked  as  if  God 
made  her  for  something;  but  that  little  yellow-haired 
simpleton — umph !" 

Poor  Ruth,  in  happy  ignorance  of  the  state  of  her 
new  mother-in-law's  feelings,  moved  about  her  apart 
ments  in  a  sort  of  blissful  dream.  How  odd  it  seemed, 
this  new  freedom,  this  being  one's  own  mistress.  How 
odd  to  see  that  shaving-brush  and  those  razors  lying  on 


R  U  T  H        [I  ALL.  27 

her  toilet  table!  then   that   saucy  looking  snioking-cap,^ 
those  slippers  and  that  dressing-gown,  those  fancy  neck-\ 
ties,  too,  and  vests  and  coats,  in  unrebuked  proximity 
to  her  muslins,  laces,   silks  and  de  laincs  ! 
Ruth  liked  it. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OOD  morning,  Ruth  ;  Mrs.  Hall  I  suppose  I  should 
call  you,  only  that  I  can't  get  used  to  being 
shoved  one  side  quite  so  suddenly,"  said  the  old  lady, 
with  a  faint  attempt  at  a  laugh. 

"  Oh,  pray  don't  say  Mrs.  Hall  to  me,"  said  Ruth, 
handing  her  a  chair ;  "  call  me  any  name  that  best 
pleases  you ;  I  shall  be  quite  satisfied." 

"I  suppose  you  feel  quite  lonesome  when  Harry  is 
away,  attending  to  business,  and  as  if  you  hardly  knew 
what  to  do  with  yourself;  don't  you  T' 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  glad  smile,  "  not  at  all. 
I  was  just  thinking  whether  I  was  not  glad  to  have 
him  gone  a  little  while,  so  that  I  could  sit  down  and 
think  how  much  I  love  him."  9 

The  old  lady  moved  uneasily  in  her  chair.  "  I  sup 
pose  you  understand  all  about  housekeeping,  Ruth  ?" 


RUTHHALL.  20 

Ruth  blushed.  "No,"  said  she,  "I  have  but  just 
returned  from  boarding-school.  I  asked  Harry  to  wait 
till  I  had  learned  house-keeping  matters,  but  he  was 
not  willing." 

The  old  lady  untied  her  cap-strings,  and  patted  the 
floor  restlessly  with  her  foot. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  you  were  not  brought  up  proper 
ly,"  said  she.  "  I  learned  all  that  a  girl  should  learn, 
before  I  married.  Harry  has  his  fortune  yet  to  make, 
you  know.  Young  people,  now-a-days,  seem  to  think 
that  money  comes  in  showers,  whenever  it  is  wanted ; 
that 's  a  mistake ;  a  penny  at  a  time — that 's  the  way 
we  got  ours ;  that 's  the  way  Harry  and  you  will  have 
to  get  yours.  Harry  has  been  brought  up  sensibly. 
He  has  been  taught  economy  ;  he  is,  like  me,  naturally 
of  a  very  generous  turn ;  he  will  occasionally  offer  you 
pin-money.  In  those  cases,  it  will  be  best  for  you  to 
pass  it  over  to  me  to  keep ;  of  course  you  can  always 
have  it  again,  by  telling  me  how  you  wish  to  spend  it. 
I  would  advise  you,  too,  to  lay  by  all  your  handsome 
clothes.  As  to  the  silk  stockings  you  were  married  in, 
of  course  you  will  never  be  so  extravagant  as  to  wear 
them  again.  I  never  had  a  pair  of  silk  stockings  in  my 
life;  they  have  a  very  silly,  frivolous  look.  Do  you 
know  how  to  iron,  Ruth  V 

"Yes,"  said  Ruth;  "I  have  sometimes  clear-starched 
my  own  muslins  and  laces." 


ftO  RUTHHALL. 

*»  v-rlad  t )  hear  it ;  did  you  ever  seat  a  pair  of  pan 
taloons  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Ruth,  repressing  a  laugh,  and  yet  half  in 
clined  to  cry ;  "  you  forget  that  I  am  just  home  from 
boarding-school." 

"Can  you  make  bread?  When  I  say  bread  I  mean 
bread — old  fashioned,  yeast  riz  bread  ;  none  of  your  sal- 
soda,  salaeratus,  sal-volatile  poisonous  mixtures,  that  must 
be  eaten  as  quick  as  baked,  lest  it  should  dry  up ;  yeast 
bread — do  you  know  how  to  make  it  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  growing  sense  of  her  utter 
good-for-nothingness ;  "people  in  the  city  always  buy 
baker's  bread;  my  father  did." 

"Your  father!  land's  sake,  child,  you  mustn't  quote 
^your  father  now  you  're  married;  you  have  n't  any 
I  father." 

I  never  had,  thought  Ruth. 

"  To  be  sure ;  what  does  the  Bible  say  1  '  Forsaking 
father  and  mother,  cleave  to  your  wife,'  (or  husband, 
which  amounts  to  the  same  thing,  I  take  it ;)  and  speak 
ing  of  that,  I  hope  you  won't  be  always  running  home, 
or  running  anywhere  in  fact.  Wives  should  be  keepers  at 
home.  Ruth,"  continued  the  old  lady  after  a  short 
pause,  "  do  you  know  I  should  like  your  looks  better,  if 
you  did  n't  curi  your  hair  ?" 

"I  don't  curl  it,"   said  Ruth,  "it  curls  naturally." 

"That's  a  pity,"    said  the  old  lady,   "you   should 


RUTH       HALL.  SI 

avoid  everything  that  looks  frivolous ;  you  must  try 
and  pomatum  it  down.  And  Ruth,  if  you  should  feel 
the  need  of  exercise,  don't  gad  in  the  streets.  Re 
member  there  is  nothing  like  a  broom  and  a  dust-pan 
to  make  the  blood  circulate." 

"You  keep  a  rag  bag,  I  suppose,"  said  the  old  lady; 
'*  many  's  the  glass  dish  I  'vc  peddled  away  my  scissors- 
clippings  for.  'Waste  not,  want  not.'  I've  got  that 
framed  somewhere.  I'll  hunt  it  up,  and  put  it  on  your 
wall.  It  won't  do  you  any  harm  to  read  it  now  and 
then."' 

;:  I  hope,"  continued  the  old  lady,  "  that  you  don't 
read  novels  and  such  trash.  I  have  a  very  select  little 
library,  when  you  feel  inclined  to  read,  consisting  of  a 
treatise  on  '  The  Complaints  of  Women,'  an  excellent  ser 
mon  on  Predestination,  by  our  old  minister,  Dr.  Diggs, 
and  Seven  Reasons  why  John  Rogers,  the  martyr,  must 
have  had  ten  children  instead  of  nine  (as  is  generally 
supposed)  ;  any  time  that  you  stand  in  need  of  rational 
reading  come  to  me ;"  and  the  old  lady,  smoothing  a 
wrinLle  in  her  black  silk  apron,  took  a  dignified  leave. 


CHAPTER  V. 


RUTH  !  her  sky  so  soon  overcast  !  As  the 
door  closed  on  the  prim,  retreating  figure  of  her 
mother-in-law,  she  burst  into  tears.  But  she  was  too 
sensible  a  girl  to  weep  long.  She  wiped  her  eyes, 
and  began  to  consider  what  was  to  be  done.  It  would 
never  do  to  complain  to  Harry  —  dear  Harry.  He 
would  have  to  take  sides  ;  oh  no,  that  would  never 
do  ;  she  could  never  complain  to  him  of  his  own 
mother.  But  why  did  he  bring  them  together?  know 
ing,  as  he  must  have  known,  how  little  likely  they 
were  to  assimilate.  This  thought  she  smothered  quickly, 
but  not  before  it  had  given  birth  to  a  sigh,  close  upon 
the  heels  of  which  love  framed  this  apology:  It  was 
so  long  since  Harry  had  lived  under  the  same  roof 
with  his  mother  he  had  probably  forgotten  her  eccen 
tricities;  and  then  she  was  so  dotingly  fond  of  him, 
that  probably  no  points  of  collision  ever  came  up  be 
tween  the  two. 


RUTH       HALL.  83 

Iii  the  course  of  an  hour,  what  with  cold  bathing  and 
philosophy,  Ruth's  eyes  and  equanimity  were  placed  be 
yond  the  suspicion  even  of  a  newly-made  husband,  and 
when  she  held  up  her  lips  to  him  so  temptingly,  on  his 
return,  he  little  dreamed  of  the  self  conquest  she  had  so 
tearfully  achieved  for  his  sake, 
2* 


CHAPTER  VI. 

TJARRY'S  father  began  life  on  a  farm  in  Vermont. 
*"*•  Between  handling  ploughs,  hoes,  and  harrows,  he 
had  managed  to  pick  up  sufficient  knowledge  to  es 
tablish  himself  as  a  country  doctor;  well  contented  to 
ride  six  miles  on  horseback  of  a  stormy  night,  to  ex 
tract  a  tooth  for  some  distracted  wretch,  for  twenty-five 
cents.  Naturally  loquacious,  and  equally  fond  of  ad 
ministering  jalap  and  gossip,  he  soon  became  a  great 
favorite  with  the  "  women  folks,"  which  every  aspiring 
Esculapius,  who  reads  this,  knows  to  be  half  the  battle. 
They  soon  began  to  trust  him,  not  only  in  drawing 
teeth,  but  in  cases  involving  the  increase  of  the  vil 
lage  census.  Several  successes  in  this  line,  which  he 
took  no  pains  to  conceal,  put  him  behind  a  gig  of  his 
own,  and  enabled  his  practice  to  overtake  his  fame  as 
far  as  the  next  village. 

Like  many  other  persons,  who  revolve  all  their  life 


RUT  II       HALL.  35 

in  a  peck  measure,  the  doctor's  views  of  the  world 
in  general,  and  its  denizens  in  particular,  were  somewhat 
circumscribed.  Added  to  this,  he  was  as  persevering 
as  a  fly  in  the  dog-days,  and  as  immovable  as  the 
old  rusty  weather-cock  on  the  village  meeting-house, 
which  for  twenty  years  had  never  been  blown  about 
by  any  whisking  wind  of  doctrine.  "  When  he  opened 
his  mouth,  no  dog  must  bark  ;"  and  any  dissent  from 
his  opinion,  however  circumspectly  worded,  he  con 
sidered  a  personal  insult.  As  his  wife  entertained  the 
same  liberal  views,  occasional  conjugal  collisions,  on 
this  narrow  track,  were  the  consequence ;  the  in 
terest  of  which  was  intensified  by  each  reminding  the 
other  of  their  Calvinistio  church  obligations  to  keep 
the  peace.  They  had,  however,  one  common  ground 
of  undisputed  territory — their  "  Son  Harry"  who  was 
as  infallible  as  the  Pope,  and  (until  he  got  married) 
never  did  a  foolish  thing  since  he  was  born.  On  this 
last  point,  their  "  Son  Harry "  did  not  exactly  agree 
with  them,  as  he  considered  it  decidedly  the  most  de 
lightful  negotiation  he  had  ever  made,  and  one  which 
he  could  not  even  think  of  without  a  sudden  accelera 
tion  of  pulse. 

Time  wore  on,  the  young  couple  occupying  their 
own  suite  of  apartments,  while  the  old  people  kept 
house.  The  doctor,  who  had  saved  enough  to  lay  his 
saddle-bags  with  his  medical  books  on  the  shelf,  busied 


36  RUTH       HALL. 

himself,  after  he  had  been  to  market  in  tne  morning, 
in  speculating  on  what  Ruth  was  about,  or  in  peeping 
over  the  balustrade,  to  see  who  called  when  the  bell 
rang ;  or,  in  counting  the  \vood-pile,  to  see  how  many 
sticks  tho  cook  had  taken  to  make  the  pot  boil  for  din 
ner  The  second  girl  (a  supernumerary  of  the  bridal 
week)  had  long  since  been  dismissed;  and  the  doctor 
and  his  wife  spent  their  evenings  with  the  cook,  to  save 
the  expense  of  burning  an  extra  lamp.  Consequently, 
Betty  soon  began  to  consider  herself  one  of  the  family, 
and  surprised  Ruth  one  day  by  modestly  requesting 
the  loan  of  her  bridal  veil  "  to  wear  to  a  little  party  ;" 
not  to  speak  of  sundry  naps  to  which  she  treated  her 
self  in  Ruth's  absence,  in  her  damask  rocking  chair, 
which  was  redolent,  for  some  time  after,  of  a  strong  odor 
of  dish-water. 

Still,  Ruth  kept  her  wise  little  mouth  shut ;  moving, 
amid  these  discordant  elements,  as  if  she  \vere  deaf, 
dumb,  and  blind. 

Oh.  love !  that  thy  silken  reins  could  so  curb  the 
spirit  and  bridle  the  tongue,  that  thy  uplifted  finger  of 
warning  could  calm  that  bounding  pulse,  still  that  throb 
bing  heart,  and  .send  those  rebellious  tears,  unnoticed, 
back  to  their  source. 

f  Ah !  could  we  lay  bare  the  secret  history  of  many  a 
Wife's  heart,  what  martyrs  would  be  found,  over  whose  un- 
/complaining  lips  the  grave  sets  its  unbroken  seal  of  silence. 


RUTH       HALL.  o 

But  Avas  Harry  blind  and  deaf?  Had  the  bride 
groom  of  a  few  months  grown  careless  and  unobservant? 
Was  he,  to  whom  every  hair  of  that  sunny  head  was 
dear,  blind  to  the  inward  struggles,  marked  only  by  fits 
of  feverish  gaiety  ?  Did  he  never  sec  the  sudden  ruse 
to  hide  the  tell-tale  blush,  or  starting  tear  ?  Did  it 
escape  his  notice,  that  Ruth  would  start,  like  a  guilty 
thing,  if  a  sudden  impulse  of  tenderness  betrayed  her 
into  laying  her  hand  upon  his  forehead,  or  leaning 
her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  or  throwing  her  arms 
about  his  neck,  when  the  jealous  mother  was  by  1  Did 
riot  his  soul  bend  the  silent  knee  of  homage  to  that 
youthful  self-control  that  could  repress  its  own  warm 
emotions,  and  stifle  its  own  sorrows,  lest  he  should  know 
a  heart-pang] 

Yes ;  Ruth  read  it  in  the  magnetic  glance  of  the  lov 
ing  eye  as  it  lingeringly  rested  on  her,  and  in  the  low, 
thrilling  tone  of  the  whispered,  "  God  bless  you,  my 
wife ;"  and  many  an  hour,  when  alone  in  his  counting 
room,  was  Harry,  forgetful  of  business,  revolving  plans 
for  a  separate  home  for  himself  and  Ruth. 

This  was  rendered  every  day  more  necessary,  by  the 
increased  encroachments  of  the  old  people,  who  insisted 
that  no  visitors  should  remain  in  the  house  after  the  old- 
fashioned  hour  of  nine  ;  at  which  time  the  fire  should 
be  taken  apart,  the  chairs  set  up,  the  lights  extinguished, 
and  a  solemn  silence  brood  until  the  next  morning's 


38  RUTHHALL. 

cock-crowing.  It  was  also  suggested  to  the  young 
couple,  that  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  front  entry  carpet 
might  be  saved  by  their  entering  the  house  by  the  back 
gate,  instead  of  the  front  door. 

Meals  were  very  solemn  occasions;  the  old  people 
frowning,  at  such  times,  on  all  attempts  at  conversation, 
save  when  the  doctor  narrated  the  market  prices  he  paid 
for  each  article  of  food  upon  the  table.  And  so  time 
wore  on.  The  old  couple,  like  two  scathed  trees,  dry, 
harsh,  and  uninviting,  presenting  only  rough  surfaces  to 
the  clinging  ivy,  which  fain  would  olotfie  with  brightest 
verdure  their  leafless  branches. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TTARK  !  to  that  tiny  wail !     Ruth  knows   that  most\ 
blessed   of  all  hours.     Ruth  is  a  mother  !     Joy  to  j 
thee,  Ruth  !     Another  outlet  for  thy  womanly  heart ;  a 
mirror,  in  which  thy  smiles  and  tears  shall  be  reflected 
back ;   a  fair   page,  on  which   thou,   God-commissioned, 
inayst   write  what  thou  wilt ;    a  heart  that  will  throb 
back  to  thine,  love  for  love. 

But  Ruth  thinks  not  of  all  this  now,  as  she  lies  pale 
and  motionless  upon  the  pillow,  while  Harry's  grateful 
tears  bedew  his  first-born's  face.  She  cannot  even  wel 
come  the  little  stranger.  Harry  thought  her  dear  to 
him  before ;  but  now,  as  she  lies  there,  so  like  death's 
counterpart,  a  whole  life  of  devotion  would  seem  too 
little  to  prove  his  appreciation  of  all  her  sacrifices. 

The  advent  of  the  little  stranger  was  viewed  through 
very  different  spectacles  by  different  members  of  the 
family.  The  doctor  regarded  it  as  a  little  automaton, 


40  RUT  II       HALL. 

for  pleasant  ^Esculapian  experiments  in  his  idle  hours; 
the  old  lady  viewed  it  as  another  barrier  between  her 
self  and  Harry,  and  another  tie  to  cement  his  already 
too  strong  attachment  for  Euth ;  and  Betty  groaned, 
when  she  thought  of  the  puny  interloper,  in  connection 
with  washing  and  ironing  days ;  and  had  already  made 
up  her  rnind  that  the  first  time  its  nurse  used  her  new 
saucepan  to  make  gruel,  she  would  strike  for  higher 
wages. 

Poor,  little,  unconscious  "  Daisy,"  with  thy  velvet 
cheek  nestled  up  to  as  velvet  a  bosom,  sleep  on;  thou 
art  too  near  heaven  to  know  a  taint  of  earth. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


TRUTH'S  nurse,  Mrs.  Jiff,  was  fat,  elephantine,  and 
•*-  unctuous.  Nursing  agreed  with  her.  She  had  "  tast 
ed"  too  many  bowls  of  wine-whey  on  the  stairs,  tipped! 
up  too  many  bottles  of  porter  in  the  closet,  slid  down  j 
too  many  slippery  oysters  before  handing  them  to  "  her 
lady,"  not  to  do  credit  to  her  pantry  devotions.  Mrs. ' 
Jiff  wore  an  uncommonly  stiff  gingham  gown,  winch 
sounded,  every  time  she  moved,  like  the  rustle  of  a 
footfall  among  the  withered  leaves  of  autumn.  Her 
shoes  were  new,  thick,  and  creaky,  and  she  had  a  wheezy, 
dilapidated-bellowsy  way  of  breathing,  consequent  upon 
the  consumption  of  the  above-mentioned  port  and  oys 
ters,  which  was  intensely  crucifying  to  a  sick  ear. 

Mrs.  Jiff  always  "  forgot  to  bring"  her  own  comb 
and  hair  brush.  She  had  a  way,  too,  of  opening  draw 
ers  and  closets  "  by  mistake,"  thereby  throwing  her 
helpless  victim  into  a  state  of  profuse  perspiration. 
Then  she  would  go  to  sleej)  between  the  andirons, 


42  RUTH       HALL. 

with  the  new  baby  on  the  edge  of  her  knee,  in  alarm 
ing  proximity  to  the  coals ;  would  take  a  pinch  of  snuff 
over  the  bowl  of  gruel  in  the  corner,  and  knock  down 
the  shovel,  poker,  and  tongs,  every  time  she  went  near 
the  fire;  whispering — sh — sh — sh — at  the  top  of  her 
lungs,  as  she  glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  bed,  as  if 
its  demented  occupant  were  the  guilty  cause  of  the  ac 
cident. 

Mrs.  Jiff  had  not  nursed  five-and-twenty  years  for 
nothing.  She  particularly  affected  taking  care  of  young 
mothers,  with  their  first  babies  ;  knowing  very  well  that 
her  chain  shortened,  with  every  after  addition  to  maternal 
experience  :  she  considered  herself,  therefore,  quite  lucky 
in  being  called  upon  to  superintend  little  Daisy's  ad 
vent. 

It  did  occasionally  cross  Ruth's  mind  as  she  lay,  al 
most  fainting  with  exhaustion,  on  the  pillow,  while  the 
ravenous  little  Daisy  cried,  "  give,  give,"  whether  it  took 
Mrs.  Jiff  two  hours  to  make  one  cup  of  tea,  and  brown 
one  slice  of  toast ;  Mrs.  Jiff  solacing  herself,  meanwhile, 
over  an  omelette  in  the  kitchen,  with  Betty,  and  pouring 
into  her  ready  ears  whole  histories  of  "  gen'lemen  as 
wasn't  gen'lemen,  whose  ladies  she  nursed,"  and  how 
"nobody  but  herself  knew  how  late  they  did  come 
home  when  their  wives  were  sick,  though,  to  be  sure, 
she  'd  scorn  to  tell  of  it !"  Sometimes,  also,  Ruth  inno 
cently  wondered  if  it  was  necessary  for  the  nurse  to 


RUTH       HALL.  43 

occupy  the  same  bed  with  "  her  lady  ;"  particularly  when 
her  circumference  was  as  Behemoth-ish,  and  her  nose  as 
musical  as  Mrs.  Jiff's;  and  whether  there  would  be  any 
impropriety  in  her  asking  her  to  take  the  babe  and  keep 
it  quiet  part  of  the  night,  that  she  might  occasionally  get 
a  nap.  Sometimes,  too,  she  considered  the  feasibility  of 
requesting  Mrs.  Jiff  not  to  select  the  time  when  she 
(Ruth)  was  sipping  her  chocolate,  to  comb  out  her 
'•  false  front,"  and  polish  up  her  artificial  teeth ;  and 
sometimes  she  marvelled  why,  when  Mrs.  Jiff  paid  such 
endless  visits  to  the  kitchen,  she  was  always  as  fixed  as 
the  North  Star,  whenever  dear  Harry  came  in  to  her 
chamber  to  have  a  conjugal  chat  with  her. 


T 


CHAPTER  IX. 

do  y°u  d°  this  morning,  Ruth?"  said  the  old 
lady,  lowering  herself  gradually  into  a  softly-cush 
ioned  arm  chair.  "  How  your  sickness  has  altered  you  ! 
You  look  like  a  ghost  1  I  should  n't  wonder  if  you  lost 
all  your  hair  ;  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  in  sickness  ;  or 
your  teeth  either.  How  's  the  baby  1  She  don't  favor 
our  side  of  the  house  at  all.  She  is  quite  a  plain  child, 
in  fact.  Has  she  any  symptoms,  yet,  of  a  sore  mouth  ? 
I  hope  not,  because  she  will  communicate  it  to  your 
breast,  and  then  you  '11  have  a  time  of  it.  I  knew  a 
poor,  feeble  thing  once,  who  died  of  it.  Of  course,  you 
intend,  when  Mrs.  Jiff  leaves,  to  take  care  of  the  baby 
yourself;  a  nursery  girl  would  be  very  expensive." 

"  I  believe  Harry  has  already  engaged  one,"  said 
Ruth. 

"  I  don't  think  he  has,"  said  the  old  lady,  sitting  up 
very  straight,  "  because  it  was  only  this  morning  that 


RtTHHALL.  45 

the  doctor  and  I  figured  up  the  expense  it  would  be  to 
you,  and  we  unanimously  came  to  the  conclusion  to  tell 
Harry  that  you  'd  better  take  care  of  the  child  }  ourself. 
I  always  took  care  of  my  babies.  You  ought  n't  to  have 
mentioned  a  nursery  girl,  at  all,  to  Harry." 

"  He  proposed  it  himself,"  replied  Ruth  ;  "  he  said  I 
was  too  feeble  to  have  the  care  of  the  child." 

"  Pooh !  pshaw !  stuff!  no  such  thing.  You  are  well 
enough,  or  will  be,  before  long.  Now,  there  's  a  girl's 
board  to  begin  with.  Servant  girls  eat  like  boa-con 
strictors.  Then,  there 's  the  soap  and  oil  she  '11  waste  ; — 
oh,  the  thing  is  n't  to  be  thought  of;  it  is  perfectly  ruin 
ous.  If  you  had  n't  made  a  fool  of  Harry,  he  never 
could  have  dreamed  of  it.  You  ought  to  have  sense 
enough  to  check  him,  when  he  would  go  into  such  ex 
travagances  for  you,  but  some  people  have  tit  any  sense. 
Where  would  all  the  sugar,  and  starch,  and  soap,  go  to, 
I  'd  like  to  know,  if  we  were  to  have  a  second  girl  in  the 
house?  How  long  would  the  wood-pile,  or  pitch-kin 
dlings,  or  our  new  copper-boiler  last  ?  And  who  is  to 
keep  the  back  gate  bolted,  with  such  a  chit  flying  in  and 
out?" 

"  Will  you  please  hand  me  that  camphor  bottle  ?" 
said  Ruth,  laying  her  hand  upon  her  throbbing  forehead. 

"  How 's  my  little  snow-drop  to-day  ?"  said  Harry, 
entering  Ruth's  room  as  his  mother  swept  out ;  "  what 


46  R  U  T  II       II  A  L  L  . 

ails  your  eyes,  Ruth  ?"  said  her  husband,  remov?  g  the 
little  hands  which  hid  them. 

"  A  sudden  pain,"  said  Ruth,  laughing  gaily  ;  "  it  has 
gone  now ;  the  camphor  was  too  strong." 

Good  Ruth !  brave  Ruth !  Was  Harry  deceived  ? 
Something  ails  his  eyes,  now ;  but  Ruth  has  too  much 
tact  to  notice  it. 

Oh  Love !  thou  skilful  teacher !  learned  beyond  all 
the  wisdom  of  the  schools. 


CHAPTER  X 

"  "\7~OU  will  be  happy  here,  dear  Ruth,"  said  Harry  ; 

-*-    "  you  will  be  your  own  mistress." 

Ruth  danced  about,  from  room  to  room,  with  the 
careless  glee  of  a  happy  child,  quite  forgetful  that  she 
was  a  wife  and  a  mother ;  quite  unable  to  repress  the 
flow  of  spirits  consequent  upon  her  new-found  freedom. 

Ruth's  new  house  was  about  five  miles  from  the  city. 
The  approach  to  it  was  through  a  lovely  winding  lane, 
a  little  off  the  main  road,  skirted  on  either  side  by  a 
thick  grove  of  linden  and  elms,  where  the  wild  grape 
vine  leaped,  clinging  from  branch  to  branch,  festooning 
its  ample  clusters  in  prodigal  profusion  of  fruitage,  and 
forming  a  dense  shade,  impervious  to  the  most  garish 
noon-day  heat;  while  beneath,  the  wild  brier-rose  un 
folded  its  perfumed  leaves  in  the  hedges,  till  the  bees 
and  humming-birds  went  reeling  away,  with  their  hon 
eyed  treasures. 


48  RUTHHALL. 

You  can  scarce  see  the  house,  for  the  drooping  elms, 
half  a  century  old,  whose  long  branches,  at  every  wind- 
gust,  swept  across  the  velvet  lawn.  The  house  is  very 
old,  but  Euth  says,  "  All  the  better  for  that."  Little 
patches  of  moss  tuft  the  sloping  roof,  and  swallows  and 
martens  twitter  round  the  old  chimney.  It  has  nice  old- 
fashioned  beams,  running  across  the  ceiling,  which  threat 
en  to  bump  Harry's  curly  head.  The  doorways,  too, 
are  low,  with  honeysuckle,  red  and  white,  wreathed 
around  the  porches;  and  back  of  the  house  there  is  a 
high  hill  (which  Ruth  says  must  be  terraced  off  for  a 
garden),  surmounted  by  a  gray  rock,  crowned  by  a 
tumble-down  old  summer-house,  where  you  have  as  fine 
a  prospect  of  hill  and  valley,  rock  and  river,  as  ever  a 
sunset  flooded  with  rainbow  tints. 

It  was  blessed  to  see  the  love-light  in  Ruth's  gentle 
eyes ;  to  see  the  rose  chase  the  lily  from  her  cheek ;  to 
see  the  old  spring  come  back  to  her  step ;  to  follow  her 
from  room  to  room,  while  she  draped  the  pretty  white 
curtains,  and  beautified,  unconsciously,  everything  her 
fingers  touched. 

She  could  give  an  order  without  having  it  counter 
manded  ;  she  could  kiss  little  Daisy,  without  being 
called  "  silly ;"  she  could  pull  out  her  comb,  and  let 
her  curls  flow  about  her  face,  without  being  considered 
"  frivolous ;"  and,  better  than  all,  she  could  fly  into  her 
husband's  arms,  when  he  came  home,  and  kiss  him,  with- 


R  U  T  H       I!  A  L  i.  .  49 

out  feeling  that  she  had  broken  any  penal  statute.  Yes  ; 
she  was  free  as  the  golden  orioles,  whose  hanging  nests 
swayed  to  and  fro  amid  the  glossy  green  leaves  beneath 
her  window. 

But  not  as  thoughtless. 

Ruth  had  a  strong,  earnes-t  nature  ;  she  could  not  look 
upon  this  wealth  of  sea,  sky,  leaf,  bud,  and  blossom  ;  she 
could  not  listen  to  the  little  birds,  nor  inhale  the  per 
fumed  breath  of  morning,  without  a  filling  eye  and  brim 
ming  heart,  to  the  bounteous  Jjriyer.  Should  she  revel 
in  all  this  loveliness, — should  her  heart  be  filled  to  its 
fullest  capacity  for  earthly  happiness,  and  no  grateful 
incense  go  up  from  its  altar  to  Ilej^ven  ? 

And  the  babe  ?  Its  wondering  eyes  had  already  be 
gun  to  seek  its  mother's  ;  its  little  lip  to  quiver  at  a  harsh 
or  discordant  sound.  An  impracticed  hand  must  sweep 
that  harp  of  a  thousand  strings  ;  trembling  fingers  must 
inscribe,  indelibly,  on  that  blank  page,  characters  to  be 
read  by  the  light  of  eternity  :  the  maternal  eye  must 
never  sleep  at  its  post,  lest  the  enemy  rifle  the  casket  ofl 
its  gems.  And  so,  by  her  child's  cradle,  Ruth  first 
learned  to  pray.  The  weight  her  slender  shoulders  could 
not  bear,  she  rolled  at  the  foot  of  the  cross ;  and,  with 
the  baptism  of  holy  tears,  mother  and  child  were  conse 
crated. 

3 


CHAPTER  XL 

FTilME  flew  on ;  seasons  came  and  went ;  and  still  peace 
brcoded,  like  a  dove,  under  the  roof  of  Harry  and 
'Ruth.  Each  bright  summer  morning,  Ruth  and  the  little 
Daisy,  (who  already  partook  of  her  mother's  love  for 
nature,)  rambled,  hand  in  hand,  through  the  woods  and 
fields,  with  a  wholesome  disregard  of  those  city  bug 
bears,  sun,  dew,  bogs,  fences,  briers,  and  cattle.  Wher 
ever  a  flower  opened  its  blue  eye  in  the  rock  cleft; 
wherever  the  little  stream  ran,  babbling  and  sparkling, 
through  the  emerald  meadow ;  where  the  golden  moss 
piled  up  its  velvet  cushion  in  the  cool  woods ;  where  the 
pretty  clematis  threw  the  graceful  arms  of  youth  'round 
the  gnarled  trunk  of  decay ;  where  the  bearded  grain, 
swaying  to  and  fro,  tempted  to  its  death  the  reaper ; 
where  the  red  and  white  clover  dotted  the  meadow 
grass ;  or  where,  in  the  damp  marsh,  the  whip-poor-will 
moared,  and  the  crimson  lobelia  nodded  its  regal  crown  ; 


RUTH       HALL.  51 

or  where  the  valley  smiled  in  its  beauty  'neath  the 
lofty  hills,  nestling  'mid  its  foliage  the  snow-white  cot 
tages  ;  or  where  the  cattle  dozed  under  the  broad,  green 
branches,  or  bent  to  the  glassy  lake  to  drink  ;  or  where, 
on  the  breezy  hill-tops,  the  voices  of  childhood  came  up, 
sweet  and  clear,  as  the  far-off  hymning  of  angels, — there, 
Ruth  and  her  soul's  child  loved  to  linger. 

It  was  beautiful,  yet  fearful,  to  mark  the  kindling  eve 
of  the  child ;  to  see  the  delicate  flush  come  and  go  on 
her  marble  cheek,  and  to  feel  the  silent  pressure  of  her 
little  hand,  when  this  alone  could  tell  the  rapture  she  had 
no  words  to  express. 

Ah,  Ruth  !  gaze  not  so  dotingly  on  those  earnest  eyes. 
Know'st  thou  not, 

The  rose  that  sweetest  doth  awake, 
Will  soonest  go  to  rest  J 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  "TT7"ELL,"  said  the  doctor,  taking  his  spectacles  from 
his  nose,  and  folding  them  up  carefully  in  their 
leathern  case ;  "  I  hope  you  '11  be  easy,  Mis.  Hall,  now 
that  we  Ve  toted  out  here,  bag  and  baggage,  to  please 
you,  when  I  supposed  I  was  settled  for  the  rest  of  my 
life." 

"  Fathers  can't  be  expected  to  have  as  much  natural 
affection,  or  to  be  as  self  sacrificing  as  mothers"  said  the 
old  lady.  "  Of  course,  it  was  some  trouble  to  move  out 
here ;  but,  for  Harry's  sake,  I  was  willing  to  do  it. 
What  does  Ruth  know  about  house-keeping,  I  'd  like  to 
know  1  A  pretty  muss  she  '11  make  of  it,  if  Pm  not 
around  to  oversee  things." 

"  It  strikes  me,"  retorted  the  doctor,  "  that  you  won't 
get  any  thanks  for  it — from  one  side  of  the  house,  at 
least.  Ruth  never  says  anything  when  you  vex  her,  but 
there 's  a  look  in  her  eye  winch — well,  Mis.  Hall,  it  tells 
the  whole  story." 


RUTH       HALL.  53 

"  I  've  seen  it,"  said  the  old  lady,  while  her  very  cap- 
strings  fluttered  with  indignation,  "  and  it  has  provoked 
me  a  thousand  times  more  than  if  she  had  thrown  a 
brick-bat  at  my  head.  That  girl  is  no  fool,  doctor.  She 
knows  very  well  what  she  is  about :  but  diamond  cut 
diamond.  /  say.  Doctor,  doctor,  there  are  the  hens 
in  the  garden.  I  want  that  garden  kept  nice.  I  suppose 
Ruth  thinks  that  nobody  can  have  flowers  but  herself. 
Wait  till  my  china-asters  and  sweet  peas  come  up. 
I  'in  going  over  to-day  to  take  a  peep  round  her  house ; 
I  wonder  what  it  looks  like  ?  Stuck  full  of  gimcracks, 
of  all  sorts,  I  '11  warrant.  Well,  I  shan't  furnish  my  best 
parlor  till  I  sec  what  she  has  got.  I  've  laid  by  a  little 
money,  and — " 

"  Better  give  it  to  the  missionaries,  Mis.  Hall," 
growled  the  doctor ;  "  I  tell  you  Ruth  don't  care  a  pin 
wThat  you  have  in  your  parlor." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Well,  anyhow,'7  muttered  the  doctor,  "  you  can't  get 
the  upper  hand  of  her  in  that  line  ;  i.  e.,  if  she  has  a  mind 
that  you  shall  not.  Harry  is  doing  a  very  good  busi 
ness  ;  and  you  know  very  well,  it  is  no  use  to  try  to 
blind  your  eyes  to  it,  that  if  she  wanted  Queen  Vic 
toria's  sceptre,  he  'd  manage  to  get  it  for  her." 

"  That  's  more  than  I  can  say  of  you"  exclaimed  the 
old  lady,  fanning  herself  violently  ;  "  for  all  that  I  used 
to  mend  your  old  saddle-bags,  and  once  made,  with  my 


54  RUTH      II  ALL. 

own  hands,  a  pair  of  leather  small-clothes  to  ride  horse 
back  in.  Forty  years,  doctor,  I  've  spent  in  your  ser 
vice.  I  don't  look  much  as  I  did  when  you  married  me. 
I  was  said  then  to  have  '  woman's  seven  beauties,'  inclu 
ding  the  '  dimple  in  the  chin,'  which  I  see  still  remains  ;" 
and  the  old  lady  pointed  to  a  slight  indentation  in  her 
wrinkled  face.  "  I  might  have  had  him  that  was  Squire 
Smith,  or  Pete  Packer,  or  Jim  Jessup.  There  was  n't 
one  of  'em  who  had  not  rather  do  the  chores  on  our  farm, 
than  on  any  other  in  the  village." 

"  Pooh,  pooh,"  said  the  doctor,  "  don't  be  an  old  fool ; 
that  was  because  your  father  kept  good  cider." 

Mrs.  Hall's  cap-strings  were  seen  flying  the  next  min 
ute  through  the  sitting-room  door ;  and  the  doctor  was 
heard  to  mutter,  as  she  banged  the  door  behind  her, 
"  that  tells  the  whole  story  !" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  {  SUMMER  house,  hey  !"  said  the  old  lady,  as  with 
•^  stealthy,  cat-like  steps,  she  crossed  a  small  piece  of 
woods,  between  her  house  and  Ruth's ;  "  a  summer 
house  !  that 's  the  way  the  money  goes,  is  it  ?  What 
have  we  here  ?  a  book  ;"  (picking  np  a  volume  which 
lay  half  hidden  in  the  moss  at  her  feet:)  "poetry,  I  declare  ! 
the  most  frivolous  of  all  reading  ;  all  pencil  marked  ; — 
and  here's  something  in  Ruth's  own  hand- writing — that's 
poetry,  too  :  worse  and  worse." 

"  Well,  we  '11  see  how  the  JtiM&»  of  this  poetess  looks.N 
I  will  go  into  the  house  the  back  way,  and  take  them  by    j 

surprise ;  that 's  the  way  to  find  people  out.     None  of 

/ 
your  company  faces  for  me."     And  the  old  lady  peered 

curiously  through  her  spectacles,  on  either  side,  as  she 
passed  along  towards  the  kitchen  door,  and  exclaimed,  as 
her  eye  fell  on  the  shining  row,  "  six  milkpans  ! — wonder 
if  they  buy  their  milk,  or  keep  a  cow.  If  they  buy  it,  it 


56  RUTHHALL. 

must  cost  them  something  ;  if  they  keep  a  cow,  I  Ve  no 
question  the  milk  is  half  wasted." 

The  old  lady  passed  her  skinny  forefinger  across  one 
of  the  pans,  examining  her   finger  very  minutely  after 
the  operation ;  and  then  applied  the  tip  of  her  nose  to 
the  interior  of  it.     There  was  no  fault  to  be  found  with 
that  milkpan,  if  it  was  Ruth's ;  so,  scrutinizing  two  or 
three  dish  towels,  which  were  hanging  on  a  line  to  dry, 
she  stepped  cautiously  up  to  the  kitchen  door.    A  tidy,  re 
spectable-looking  black  woman  met  her  on  the  thresh 
,  old;  her  woolly  locks   bound  with  a  gay -striped  ban 
i  danna,  and  her  ebony  face  shining  with  irresistible  good 
Miumor. 

"Is  Ruth  in f  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Who,  Missis  r  said  Dinah. 

"  Ruth." 

" Missis  Hall  lives  here"  answered  Dinah,  with  a  puz 
zled  look. 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  old  lady  ;  "  she  is  my  son's  wife." 

"  Oh !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Missis,"  said  Dinah,  curt 
seying  respectfully.  "  I  never  heard  her  name  called 
Ruth  afore :  massa  calls  her  '  bird,'  and  '  sunbeam.'  " 

The  old  lady  frowned. 

"  Is  she  at  home  ?"  she  repeated,  with  stately  dignity. 

"  No,"  said  Dinah,  "  Missis  is  gone  rambling  off  in 
the  woods  with  little  Daisy.  She's  powerful  fond  of 
flowers,  and  things.  She  climbs  fences  like  a  squir'l ! 


n  u  T  PI     ii  A  L  L  .  57 

it  makes    this    chil'  laf '  to  see  the  ol'  farmers    stare  at 
her." 

';  You  must  have  a  great  deal  to  do,  here  ;"  said  the 
old  lady,  frowning ;  "  Ruth  is  n't  much  of  a  hand  at 
house-work." 

'•Plenty   to    do,  Missis,    ana   willin'  hands  to   do   it. 
Dinah  don't  care  how  hard  she  works,  if  she  don't  work  j 
to  the  tune  of   a  lash ;    and   Missis  Hall  goes  singing  / 
about  the  house  so  that  it  makes  time  fly." 

"  She  don't  ever  help  you  any,  does  she  V  said  the 
persevering  old  lady. 

"  Lor'  bless  you  !  yes,  Missis.  She  comes  right  in 
and  makes  a  pie  for  Massa  Harry,  or  cooks  a  steak  jess' 
as  easy  as  she  pulls  oil  a  flower  ;  and  when  Dinah's  cook 
ing  anything  new,  she  asks  more  questions  how  it 's  done 
than  this  chil'  kin  answer." 

"  You  have  a  great  deal  of  company,  I  suppose ;  that 
must  make  you  extra  trouble,  I  should  think  ;  people 
riding  out  from  the  city  to  supper,  when  you  are  all 
through  and  cleared  away  :  don't  it  tire  you  V 

"  No  ;  Missis  Hall  takes  it  easy.  She  laf 's  merry, 
and  says  to  the  company,  'you  get  tea  enough  in  the 
city,  so  I  sha  n't  give  you  any  ;  we  had  tea  long  ago ;  but 
here  's  some  fresh  milk,  and  some  raspberries  and  cake  ; 
and  if  you  can't  eat  that,  you  ought  to  go  hungry.'  " 

"  She  irons  Harry's  shirts,  I  suppose  1"  said  the  old 
lady. 

3* 


58  RUTH       HALL. 

"  She  1  s'pose  dis  chil'  let  her  ?  when  she 's  so  careful, 
too,  of  ol'  Dinah's  bones  ?" 

<;  Well,"  said  the  old  lady,  foiled  at  all  points,  "  I  '11 
walk  over  the  house  a  bit,  I  guess ;  I  won't  trouble  you 
to  wait  on  me,  Dinat.  •"  and  the  old  lady  started  on  her 
exploring  tour. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


is    the    parlor,   hey?"    soliloquized   old    Mrs. 
~   Hall,  as  she  seated  herself  on  the  sofa.     "  A  few 
dollars  laid  out  here,  I  guess." 

Not  sjL&sk  mjjiear  madam.,,  Examine  closely.  Those 
long,  white  curtains,  looped  up  so  prettily  from  the  open 
windows,  are  plain,  cheap  muslin  ;  but  no  artist  could 
have  disposed  their  folds  more  gracefully.  The  chairs 
and  sofas,  also,  Ruth  covered  with  her  own  nimble  lin 
gers  :  the  room  has  the  fragrance  of  a  green-house,  to  be 
sure  ;  but  if  you  examine  the  flowers,  which  are  scat 
tered  so  profusedly  round,  you  will  find  they  are  wild 
flowers,  which  Ruth,  basket  in  hand,  climbs  many  a  stone 
fence  every  morning  to  gather  ;  and  not  a  country  boy 
in  the  village  knows  their  hiding-places  as  well  as  she. 
See  how  skilfully  they  are  arranged  !  with  what  an 
eye  to  the  blending  of  colors  !  How  dainty  is  that  little 
tulip-shaped  vase,  with  those  half  opened  wild-rose  buds  ! 


60  R  U  T  II       H  A  L  L  . 

see  that  little  gilt  saucer,  containing  only  a  few  tiny 
green  leaves  ;  yet,  mark  their  exquisite  shape  and  finish. 
And  there  are  some  wood  anemonies;  some  white, 
with  a  faint  blush  of  pink  at  the  petals  ;  arid  others  blue 
as  little  Daisy's  eyes ;  and  see  that  velvet  moss,  with  its 
gold-star  blossoms ! 

"  Must  take  a  deal  of  time  to  gather  and  fix  'em," 
muttered  the  old  lady. 

Yes,  my  dear  madam ;  but,  better  pay  the  shoe 
maker's  than  the  doctor's  bill ;  better  seek  health  in 
hunting  live  flowers,  than  ruin  it  by  manufacturing  those 
German  worsted  abortions. 

You  should  see  your  son  Harry,  as  he  ushers  a 
visitor  in  through  the  low  door-way,  and  stands  back  to 
mark  the  surprised  delight  with  which  he  gazes  upon 
Euth's  little  fairy  room.  You  should  see  how  Harry's 
eyes  glisten,  as  they  pass  from  one  flower  vase  to  an 
other,  saying,  "  Who  but  Ruth  would  ever  have  spied  out 
that  tiny  little  blossom  ?" 

And  little  Daisy  has  caught  the  flower  mania,  too ; 
and  every  day  she  must  have  her  vase  in  the  collection  ; 
now  withdrawing  a  rose  and  replacing  it  with  a  violet, 
and  then  stepping  a  pace  or  two  back  and  looking  at  it 
with  her  little  head  on  one  side,  as  knowingly  as  an 
artist  looks  at  the  finishing  touches  to  a  favorite  picture. 

But,  my  dear  old  lady,  we  beg  pardon ;  we  are  keep 
ing  you  too  long  from  that  china  closet,  which  you  are  so 


RCTHUALL.  61 

anxious  to  inspect ;  hoping  to  find  a  flaw,  cither  in  crock 
ery  or  cake.  Not  a  bit !  You  may  draw  those  prying 
fingers  across  the  shelves  till  you  are  tired,  and  not  a 
particle  of  dust  will  adhere  to  them.  Neither  cups,  sau 
cers,  tumblers,  nor  plates,  stick  to  your  hands  ;  the  sugar- 
bowl  is  covered ;  the  cake,  in  that  tin  pail,  is  fresh  and 
light ;  the  preserves,  in  those  glass  jars,  tied  down  with 
brandy  papers,  are  clear  as  amber  ;  and  the  silver  might 
serve  for  a  looking-glass,  in  which  you  could  read  your 
own  vexation. 

Never  mind  !  A  great  many  people  keep  the  first 
floor  spick  and  span ;  mayhap  you  ;11  find  something 
wrong  up  stairs.  Walk  in  ;  't  is  the  '•  best  chamber." 
A  gilt  arrow  is  fastened  to  the  wall,  and  pretty  white 
lace  curtains  are  thrown  (tent  fashion)  over  it ;  there  is 
a  snow-white  quilt  and  a  pair  of  plump,  tempting  pil 
lows  ;  the  furniture  and  carpet  are  of  a  light  cream 
color  ;  and  there  is  a  vase  of  honeysuckle  on  the  little 
light-stand.  Nothing  could  be  more  faultless,  you  see. 

Now,  step  into  the  nursery ;  the  floor  is  strewed  with 
play-things ;  thank  God,  there  's  a  child  in  the  house  ! 
There  is  a  broken  doll ;  a  torn  picture-book  ;  a  little 
WTeath  of  oak  leaves ;  a  dandelion  chain ;  some  willow 
tassels ;  a  few  acorns ;  a  little  red  shoe,  full  of  parti 
colored  pebbles ;  the  wing  of  a  little  blue-bird ;  two 
little,  speckled  eggs,  on  a  tuft  of  moss;  and  a  little 
orphan  chicken,  nestling  in  a  basket  of  cotton  wool,  in 


62  RUTH       HALL. 

the  corner.  Then,  there  is  a  work-basket  of  Ruth's  with 
a  little  dress  of  Daisy's,  partly  finished,  and  a  dicky  of 
Harry's,  with  the  needle  still  sticking  in  it,  which  the 
little  gypsey  wife  intends  finishing  when  she  comes  back 
from  her  wood  ramble. 

The  old  lady  begins  to  think  she  must  give  it  up ; 
when,  luckily,  her  eye  falls  on  a  crouching  "  Venus,"  in 
the  corner.  Saints  and  angels  !  why,  she  has  never  been 
to  the  dress-makers !  There  's  a  text,  now !  What  a 
pity  there  is  no  appreciative  audience  to  see  the  glow  of 
indignation  with  which  those  half  averted  eyes  regard  the 
undraped  goddess ! 

"  Oh,   Harry  !    is  this  the  end  of    all  my  teachings  1 
Well,  it  is  all  Ruttts  doings — all  Ruth's  doings.     Harry 
is  to  be  pitied,  not  blamed  ;"  and  the  old  lady  takes  up, 
,t  length,  her  triumphant  march  for  home. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

"  TTALLO  !  what  arc  you  doing  there  ?"  exclaimed  tho 
doctor,  looking  over  the  fence  at  a  laborer,  at  work 
in  one  of  Harry's  fields. 

"  Ploughing  this  bit  o'  ground,  sir.  Mr.  Hall  told 
me  to  be  sure  and  get  it  finished  before  he  came  home 
from  the  city  this  afthernoon." 

"  Nonsense  !"  replied  the  doctor,  "  I  was  born  some 
time  before  my  son  Harry  ;  put  up  your  plough,  and  lay 
that  bit  of  stone  wall  yonder ;  that  needs  to  be  done 
first." 

"  I  'rn  thinking  Masther  Hall  won't  IDC  afther  liking  it  if 
I  do,  sir,"  said  Pat ;  "  I  had  my  orders  for  the  day's 
work  before  masther  went  to  the  city,  sir,  this  morning." 

"  Pooh,  pooh,"  said  the  old  man,  unchaining  the  horse 
from  the  plough,  and  turning  him  loose  in  the  pasture  ; 
"  young  folks  think  old  folks  are  fools ;  old  folks  know 
young  folks  to  be  so." 


64  R  U  T  H      HALL. 

Pat  eyed  the  doctor,-  scratched  his  head,  and  began 
slowly  to  lay  the  stone  wall. 

"  What 's  th-*t  fellow  doing  over  yonder  1"  said  the  doc 
tor  to  Pat, 

"  Planting  corn,  yer  honor." 

"  Corn  ?  ha  !  ha  !  city  farming  !  Good.  Corn  ?  That's 
just  the  spot  for  potatoes.  H-a-1-l-o  there !  Don't 
plant  any  more  corn  in  that  spot,  John ;  it  never  '11 
come  to  anything — never." 

"  But,  Mr.  Hall  ?"  said  John,  hesitatingly,  leaning  on 
his  hoe-handle. 

*'  Harry  Oh,  never  mind  him.  He  has  seen  more 
ledgers  than  corn.  Corn  ?  Ha !  that 's  good.  You  can 
go  cart  that  load  of  gravel  up  the  hill.  What  a  fortunate 
thing  for  Harry,  that  I  am  here  to  oversee  things.  This 
amateur  farming  is  pretty  play  enough ;  but  the  way  it 
sinks  the  money  is  more  curious  than  profitable.  I  won 
der,  now,  if  that  tree  is  grafted  right.  I'll  take  off  the 
ligatures  and  see.  That  hedge  won't  grow,  I  'm  certain ; 
the  down-east  cedars  thrive  the  best  for  hedges.  I 
may  as  well  pull  these  up,  and  tell  Harry  to  get  some 
of  the  other  kind ;"  and  the  doctor  pulled  them  up  by  the 
roots,  and  threw  them  over  the  fence. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


for  papa  to  come,"  said  little  Daisy,  seating 
•*•  herself  on  the  low  door-step ;  "  the  sun  has  crept 
way  round  to  the  big  apple-tree  ;"  and  Daisy  shook  back 
her  hair,  and  settling  her  little  elbows  on  her  knees,  sat 
with  her  chin  in  her  palms,  dreamily  watching  the  shift 
ing  clouds.  A  butterfly  alights  on  a  blade  of  grass 
near  her :  Daisy  springs  up,  her  long  hair  floating  like 
a  veil  about  her  shoulders,  and  her  tiny  feet  scarce  bend 
ing  the  clover  blossoms,  and  tiptoes  carefully  along  in 
pursuit. 

He 's  gone,  Daisy,  but  never  mind ;  like  many  other 
coveted  treasures,  he  would  lose  his  brilliancy  if  caught. 
Daisy  has  found  something  else  ;  she  closes  her  hand  over 
it,  and  returns  to  her  old  watch-post  on  the  door-step. 
She  seats  herself  again,  and  loosing  her  tiny  hold,  out 
creeps  a  great,  bushy,  yellow  caterpillar.  Daisy  places 
him  carefully  on  the  back  of  her  little,  blue-veined  hand, 


G6  RUTH       HALL. 

and  he  commences  his  travels  up  the  polished  arm,  to 
the  little  round  shoulder.  When  he  reaches  the  lace 
sleeve,  Daisy's  laugh  rings  out  like  a  robin's  carol ;  then  she 
puts  him  back,  to  retravel  the  same  smooth  road  again. 

"  Oh,  Daisy !  Daisy  !"  said  Euth,  stepping  up  behind 
her,  "  what  an  ugly  playfellow ;  put  him  down,  do  dar 
ling  ;  I  cannot  bear  to  see  him  on  your  arm." 

"  Why — God  made  him,"  said  little  Daisy,  with  sweet, 
upturned  eyes  of  wonder. 

44  True,  darling,"  said  Ruth,  in  a  hushed  whisper,  kiss 
ing  the  child's  brow,  with  a  strange  feeling  of  awe. 
"  Keep  him,  Daisy,  dear,  if  you  like." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


"  pLEASE,  sir,  I  '11  be  afthcr  leaving  the  night,"  said 
John,  scraping  out  his  hind  foot,  as  Harry  drew 
rein  on  Romeo,  and  halted  under  a  large  apple-tree. 

"  Leave  ?"  exclaimed  Harry,  patting  Romeo's  neck  ; 
':  you  seemed  a  contented  fellow  enough  when  I  left  for 
the  city  this  morning.  Don't  your  wages  suit  ?  What's 
in  the  wind  now  1  out  with  it,  man." 

John  scratched  his  head,  kicked  away  a  pebble  with 
the  toe  of  his  brogan,  looked  up,  and  looked  down, 
and  finally  said,  (lowering  his  voice  to  a  confidential 
whisper,  as  he  glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  doctor's 
cottage  ;)  "  It 's  the  ould  gintleman,  sir,  savin'  yer  pres 
ence.  It  is  not  two  masthers  Pat  would  be  afther  hav 
ing  ;"  and  Pat  narrated  the  affair  of  the  plough. 

Harry  bit  his  lip,  and  struck  Romeo  a  little  quick  cut 
with  his  riding-whip.  Harry  was  one  of  the  most  dutiful 
of  sons,  and  never  treated  his  father  with  disrespect; 


68  RUTH       HALL. 

he  had  chosen  a  separate  home,  that  he  might  b»  master 
of  it ;  and  this  old  annoyance  in  a  new  shape  was  very 
provoking.  "  Pat,"  said  he  at  length,  "  there  is  only  one 
master  here  ;  when  /  give  you  an  order,  you  are  to  stick 
to  it,  till  you  get  a  different  one  from  me.  D'  ye  under 
stand?" 

"  By  the  Holy  Mother,  I  '11  do  it,"  said  Pat,  delighted- 
ly  resuming  his  hoe  with  fresh  vigor. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IAT  'S  the  fourth  gig  that  has  been  tied  to  Harry's 
fence,  since  dinner,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I  hope 
Harry's  business  will  continue  to  prosper.  Company, 
company,  company.  And  there 's  Ruth,  as  I  live,  romp 
ing  round  that  meadow,  without  a  bit  of  a  bonnet.  Now 
she 's  climbing  a  cherry-tree.  A  married  woman  climb 
ing  a  cherry-tree  !  Doctor,  do  you  hear  that  1" 

"  Shoot  'em  down,"  said  the  doctor,  abstractedly,  with 
out  lifting  his  eyes  from  the  Almanac. 

'•  Shoot  who  down  f  said  the  old  lady,  shaking  him 
by  the  shoulder.  "  I  said  that  romp  of  a  Ruth  was  up  in 
a  cherry-tree." 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  were  talking  of  those  thievish 
robins  stealing  the  cherries,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  as  to 
Ruth  I  've  given  her  up  long  ago  ;  she  never  will  settle 
down  to  anything.  Yesterday,  as  I  was  taking  a  walk 
over  Harry's  farm  to  see  if  things  were  not  all  going  to 


70  R  U  T  H       H  A  L  L  . 

the  dogs,  I  saw  her  down  in  the  meadow  yonder,  with 
her  shoes  and  stockings  off,  wading  through  a  little  brook 
to  get  at  some  flowers,  which  grew  on  the  other  side. 
Half  an  hour  after  she  came  loitering  up  the  road,  with 
her  bonnet  hanging  on  the  back  of  her  neck,  and  her 
apron  crammed  full  of  grasses,  and  herbs,  and  branches, 
and  all  sorts  of  green  trash.  Just  then  the  minister 
came  along.  I  was  glad  of  it.  Good  enough  for  her, 
th.uks  I  to  myself;  she  '11  blush  for  once.  Well,  what 
dc  you  think  she  did,  Mis.  Hall  f ' 

"  What?"1  said  the  old  lady,  in  a  sepulchral  whisper, 
dropping  her  knitting-needles  and  drawing  her  rocking- 
chair  within  kissing  distance  of  the  doctor. 

"  Why,  she  burst  out  a-laughing,  perched  herself  on 
top  of  a  stone  wall,  took  a  great  big  leaf  to  fan  herself, 
and  then  invited  the  minister  to  sit  down  'long  side  of 
her,  jest  as  easy  as  if  her  hair  was  n't  all  flying  round 
her  face  like  a  wild  Arab's." 

"  I  give  up  now,"  said  the  old  lady,  dropping  her 
hands  in  an  attitude  of  the  extremest  dejection ;  "  there  's 
no  hope  of  her  after  that ;  and  what  is  worse,  it  is  no  use 
talking  to  Harry ;  she 's  got  him  so  bewitched  that  he 
imagines  everything  she  does  is  right.  How  she  did  it, 
passes  me.  I  'm  sure  she  has  no  beauty.  I  Ve  no  pa 
tience  to  see  Harry  twisting  those  yellow  curls  of  hers 
round  his  fingers,  and  calling  them  *  threads  of  gold ;' 
threads  of  fiddlo  jticks  !  She  'd  look  a  deal  more  proper 


RUTH       HALL.  71 

like,  if  she  'd  wear  her  hair  smooth  behind  her  ears,  as 
I  do." 

"  E  it  your  hair  is  false,"  said  the  literal  doctor. 

"  I  octoiy'  said  the  old  lady,  snapping  her  eyes,  "  I 
never  caa  argue  with  you  but  you  are  sure  to  get  off  the 
track,  sooner  or  later ;  there  is  no  need  of  your  telling 
all,  y  <u  know.  Suppose  I  was  always  alluding  to  your 
wig,  I  o\v  would  you  like  it  T' 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


\THNTER  had  set  in.  The  snow  in  soft,  white  piles, 
barred  up  the  cottage  door,  and  hung  shelving  over 
the  barn-roof  and  fences;  while  every  tiny  twig  and 
branch  bent  heavily,  with  its  soft  fleecy  burthen.  "  Pa 
pa,"  was  to  go  to  the  city  that  morning  in  a  sleigh. 
Daisy  had  already  heard  the  bells  tinkling  at  the  barn 
door,  as  Pat  necklaced  Romeo,  who  stood  pawing  and 
snorting,  as  if  it  were  fine  fun  to  plough  five  miles  of 
unbroken  road  into  the  city.  Daisy  had  turned  Papa's 
over-coat  sleeves  inside  out,  and  warmed  them  thor 
oughly  at  the  fire ;  she  had  tied  on  his  moccasins,  and 
had  thrown  his  fur  collar  round  his  neck  ;  and  now  she 
stood  holding  his  warm  cap  and  furred  gloves,  while  he 
and  mamma  were  saying  their  usual  good-bye. 

"  Take  care  of  that  cough,  Daisy,"  said  Harry ;  "  don't 
come  to  the  door,  darling,  to  breathe  in  this  keen  air. 
Kiss  your  hand  to  papa,  from  the  window ;"  and  Harry 


R  U  T  II       H  A  L  L .  73 

scratched  the  frost  away  with  his  finger  nails  from  the 
window-pane,  that  Daisy  might  see  him  start. 

"  Oh,  how  pretty  !"  exclaimed  the  child,  as  Pat  tossed 
the  bright,  scarlet-lined  buffalo  robe  into  the  sleigh,  and 
tucked  the  corners  snugly  over  his  master's  feet,  and 
Romeo,  inspirited  by  the  merry  tinkle  of  the  bells  and 
the  keen  frosty  air,  stood  on  his  hind  legs  and  playfully 
held  up  his  fore  feet ;  ';  Oh,  how  pretty  1"  Harry  turned 
his  head  as  he  gathered  the  reins  in  his  hand ;  his  cap 
was  crowded  down  so  snugly  over  his  forehead,  and  his 
fur  collar  turned  up  so  closely  about  his  chin,  that  only 
a  glimpse  of  his  dark  eye  and  fine  Roman  nose  was 
visible.  One  wave  of  the  hand,  and  the  light,  feathery 
snow  flew,  on  either  side,  from  under  Romeo's  flying 
— and  Papa  vas  out  of  sight. 
4 


CHAPTER  XX. 


5  Ruth,  are  you  wandering  about 
there,  like  a  ghost,  in  the  moonlight  ?"  said  Harry, 
rubbing  open  his  sleepy  eyes. 

"  Hist,  Harry  !  listen  to  Daisy's  breathing  ;  it  sounds 
as  if  it  came  through  a  brazen  tube.  She  must  be  ill." 

"  Little  wife,  don't  torment  yourself,  She  has  only  a 
bad  cold,  which,  of  course,  appears  worse  at  night.  Her 
breathing  is  irregular,  because  her  head  is  too  low.  Give 
her  this  pillow  :  there ;  now  she  's  comfortable.  What  a 
frightened  little  puss  you  are  !  Your  hand  trembles  as  if 
you  had  the  palsy ;  now  go  to  sleep ;  it  must  be  near 
two  o'clock ;  you  '11  be  sick  yourself  to-morrow :"  and 
Harry,  wearied  out  with  an  annoying  day  of  business, 
was  soon  fast  asleep. 

Only  the  eye  of  God  watches  like  a  mother's.  Ruth 
could  not  sleep.  She  was  soon  again  "at  Daisy's  side, 
with  her  fingers  upon  her  wrist,  and  her  eye  fixed  upon 


RUTHHALL.  75 

the  child's  face ;  marking  every  contortion  of  feature, 
noting  every  change  of  posture. 

"  What  is  it,  darling  ?"  asked  her  mother,  as  Daisy 
grasped  her  throat  with  both  hands. 

"  It  hurts,"  said  the  child. 

Ruth  glanced  at  Harry.  He  was  so  weary,  it  were  a 
pity  to  wake  him  needlessly.  Perhaps  her  fears  were 
groundless,  and  she  was  over-anxious  ;  and  then,  perhaps, 
Daisy  really  needed  immediate  medical  aid. 

Ruth's  fears  preponderated. 

"  Dear  Harry,*'  said  she,  laying  her  hand  softly  on  his 
forehead,  "  do  call  up  Pat,  and  send  for  the  doctor." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  think  Lest,"  said  Harry,  springing 
up  ;  ';  but  it  is  a  cold  night  for  the  old  man  to  come  out ; 
and  really,  Ruth,  Daisy  has  only  a  stuffed  cold." 

"Please  let  Pat  go,"  said  Ruth,  pleadingly;  "I  shall 
feel  happier,  Harry." 

It  was  a  venturous  undertaking  to  rouse  Pat  suddenly, 
as  his  bump  of  destructiveness  generally  woke  first ;  and 
a  fight  seemed  always  with  him  a  necessary  preliminary 
to  a  better  understanding  of  things. 

"  Hold !  hold  !"  said  Harry,  seizing  his  brawny,  bel 
ligerent  fists ;  "  not  quite  so  fast  man ;  open  your  eyes, 
and  see  who  I  am." 

"  Did  I  sthrike  yer  honor  ?"  said  Pat ;  "  I  hope  yer  '11 
forgive  me ;  but  you  see,  I  was  jist  born  with  my  fists 
doubled  up." 


76  RUTHHALL. 

"  All  right,"  said  his  master,  laughing ;  "  but  get  on 
your  clothes  as  soon  as  possible ;  harness  Romeo,  and 
bring  the  old  gentleman  up  here.  Mrs.  Hall  feels  very 
uneasy  about  Daisy,  and  wants  him  to  prescribe  for  her." 

"  I  '11  bring  him  back  in  a  flash,"  said  Pat ;  "  but  what  '11 
I  do  if  he  won't  come  T' 

"  Who's  there  ?  what  do  you  want  ?  Speak  quick,  if 
you  've  anything  to  say,  for  I  'm  catching  the  rheumatiz' 
in  my  head  ;"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  poked  his  bald  poll 
out  the  cottage  window,  into  the  frosty  night  air.  Who 
are  you  1  and  what  on  earth  do  you  want  ?" 

"It 'sine,"  said  Pat. 

"  Who  's  me  ?"  said  the  Doctor. 

"Botheration,"  growled  Pat;  "don't  the  ould  owl 
know  the  voice  of  me  ? — It 's  Pat  Donahue ;  the  childer 
is  sick,  arid  Misthress  Ruth  wants  you  to  come  wid  me, 
and  give  her  something  to  betther  her." 

"  Pooh !  pooh  !  is  that  all  you  woke  me  up  for  ?  The 
child  was  well  enough  this  noon,  except  a  slight  cold. 
Ruth  is  full  of  notions.  Go  home  and  take  that  bottle, 
and  tell  her  to  give  Daisy  half  a  teaspoonful  once  in  two 
hours ;  and  I  '11  come  over  in  the  morning.  She  's  al 
ways  a-fussing  with  that  child,  and  thinking,  if  she  sneezes, 
that  she  is  going  to  die.  It 's  a  wonder  if  I  don't  die  my 
self,  routed  out  of  a  warm  bed,  without  my  wig,  this  time 
of  night.  There — there — go  along,  and  mind  you  shut 


R  U  T  H       1C  A  L  L  .  77 

the  gate  after  you.  Ten  to  one  he'll  leave  it  open,"  so 
liloquized  the  doctor,  slamming  down  the  window  with  a 
jerk.  ';  I  hate  an  Irishman  as  I  do  a  rattlesnake.  An 
Irishman  is  an  incomplete  biped — a  human  tower  of 
Babel ;  he  was  finished  up  to  a  certain  point,  and  there 
he  "was  left. 

"  Mis.  Hall !  Mis.  Hall !  if  you  Ve  no  objection,  I 
should  like  you  to  stop  snoring.  I  should  like  to  sleep, 
if  the  village  of  Glenville  will  let  me.  Dear,  dear,  what 
a  tiling  it  is  to  be  a  doctor  !" 


CHAPTER  XXI, 

*  TF  de  las'  day  has  come,  dis  chil'  ought  to  know  it," 
said  Dinah,  springing  to  her  feet  and  peering  out, 
as  she  scratched  away  the  frost  from  the  window  ;  "  has 
de  debbel  broke  loose  ?  or  only  de  horse  ?  Any  way, 
'tis  about  de  same  ting ;"  and  she  glanced  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  barn.  "  Massy  sakes  !  dere's  Pat  stealing  off 
in  de  night  wid  Komeo  ;  no  he  aint  neider — he  's  putting 
him  up  in  de  barn.  Where  you  s'pose  he's  been  dis 
time  o'  night  1  Courting  pYaps  !  Well,  dis  chil'  dunno. 
And  dere's  a  bright  light  shining  on  de  snow,  from  Massa 
Harry's  window.  Dinah  can't  sleep  till  she  knows 
what 's  to  pay,  dat  's  a  fac' ;"  and  tying  a  handkerchief 
over  her  woolly  head,  and  throwing  on  a  shawl,  she 
tramped  down  stairs.  "  Massy  sakes !"  said  she,  stop 
ping  on  the  landing,  as  Daisy's  shrill  cough  fell  on 
her  ear  ;  "  Massy  !  jes'  hear  dat !"  and  opening  the  cham 
ber-door,  Dinah  stood  staring  at  the  child,  with  distended 


R  U  T  II       HALL.  79 

eye-balls,  then  looking  from  Harry  to  Ruth,  as  if  she 
thought  them  both  under  the  influence  of  night-mare. 
"  For  cle  Lord's  sake,  Massa  Harry,  scud  for  de  doctor," 
said  Dinah,  clasping  her  hands. 

'•  We  have,"  said  Harry,  trying  to  coax  Daisy  to 
swallow  another  spoonful  of  the  medicine,  "  and  he  said 
he'd  be  here  in  the  morning/' 

"  She  won't"  said  Dinah,  in  a  low,  hoarse  whisper  to 
Harry,  as  she  pointed  to  Daisy.  "  Don't  you  know, 
Massa,  it 's  de  croup !  de  croup;  de  wu'st  way,  Massa! 
Ok  Lor' !" 

Harry  was  harnessing  Romeo  in  an  instant,  and  on  his 
way  to  the  doctor's  cottage.  In  vain  lie  knocked,  and 
rang,  and  thumped.  The  old  man,  comfortably  tucked 
up  between  the  blankets,  was  far  aw;iy  in  the  land  of 
dreams. 

"What is  to  be  done!"  said  Harry;  ~l  must  tie 
Romeo  to  the  post  and  climb  in  at  the,  kitchen-window." 

"  Father!  father  !''  said  he,  shaking  the  old  gentleman 
by  the  shoulders,  "  Daisy  is  worse,  and  I  want  you  to  go 
right  home  with  me/' 

"  Don't  believe  it/'  said  the  old  man  ;  "  you  are  only 
frightened ;  its  an  awful  cold  night  to  go  out.'' 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Harry ;  "  but  I  brought  two  buffa 
loes  ;  hurry,  father.  Daisy  is  very  sick." 

The  old  doctor  groaned ;  took  his  wig  from  the  bed 
post,  and  put  it  on  his  head  ;  tied  a  woollen  muffler,  with 


80  BUT  II       HALL. 

distressing  deliberation,  over  his  unbelieving  ears,  and, 
returning  four  times  to  tell  "  Mis.  Hall  to  be  sure  and  bolt 
the  front  door  after  him,"  climbed  into  the  sleigh.  "  I 
shall  be  glad  if  I  don't  get  a  sick  spell  myself,"  said 
the  doctor,  "  coining  out  this  freezing  night.  Ruth  has 
frightened  you  to  death,  I  s'pose.  Ten  to  one  when  I  get 
up  there,  nothing  will  ail  the  child.  Come,  come,  don't 
drive  so  fast ;  my  bones  are  old,  and  I  don't  believe  in 
these  gay  horses  of  yours,  who  never  make  any  use  of 
their  fore-legs,  except  to  hold  them  up  in  the  air.  Whoa, 
I  say — Romeo,  whoa  !" 

"  Get  out  de  way,  Pat !"  said  Dinah ;  "  your  Paddy 
fingers  are  all  thumbs.  Here,  put  some  more  water  in 
dat  kettle  dere ;  now  stir  dat  mustard  paste ;  now  run 
quick  wid  dat  goose-grease  up  to  Missus,  and  tell  her  to 
rub  de  chil's  troat  wid  it;  'taint  no  use,  though.  Oh, 
Lor1 !  dis  nigger  knew  she  would  n't  live,  ever  since  she 
said  dat  'bout  de  caterpillar.  De  Lord  wants  de  chil', 
dat 's  a  fac' ;  she  nebber  played  enough  to  suit  Dinah." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


CJTAMPING  the  snow  from  his  feet,  the  doctor  slowly 
^  untied  his  woollen  mufllcr,  took'  off  his  hat,  settled 
his  wig,  hung  his  overcoat  on  a  nail  in  the  entry,  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  huge  red  handkerchief,  and  announcing 
his  arrival  by  a  blast,  loud  enough  to  arouse  the  seven 
sleepers,  followed  Harry  up  stairs  to  the  sick  chamber. 

The  strong  fire-light  fell  upon  Ruth's  white  figure,  as 
she  sat,  pale  and  motionless,  in  the  corner,  with  Daisy  on 
her  lap,  whose  laborious  breathing  could  be  distinctly 
heard  in  the  next  room.  A  dark  circle  had  settled  round 
the  child's  mouth  and  eyes,  and  its  little  hands  hung  help 
lessly  at  its  side.  Dinah  was  kneeling  at  the  hearth,  stir 
ring  a  fresh  mustard  paste,  with  an  air  which  seemed  to 
say,  "  it  is  no  use,  but  I  must  keep  on  doing  something." 

The  doctor  advanced,  drew  his  spectacles  from  their 
leathern  case,  perched  them  astride  the  end  of  his  nose, 
and  gazed  steadily  at  Daisy  without  speaking. 

"Help  her"  said  Ruth,  imploringly. 
4* 


82  R  U  T  II       H  A  L  L  . 

"  Nothing  to  be  done,"  said  the  doctor,  in  an  unmoved 
tone,  staring  at  Daisy. 

"Why  didn't  you  come  afore,  den1?"  said  Dinah, 
springing  to  her  feet  and  confronting  the  doctor.  "  Don't 
you  see  you  've  murdered  two  of  'em  f  and  she  pointed 
to  Ruth,  whose  head  had  dropped  upon  her  breast. 

"  I  tell  you.  Harry,  it 's  no  use  to  call  another  doctor," 
said  his  father,  shaking  off  his  grasp ;  "  the  child  is 
struck  with  death  ;  let  her  drop  off  quietly  ;  what 's  the 
sense  of  tormenting  her  ?" 

Harry  shuddered,  and  drew  his  father  again  to  Daisy's 
side. 

"  Help  her,"  said  Ruth ;  " don't  talk  ;  try  something" 

"  Well,  I  can  put  on  these  leeches,  if  you  insist,"  said 
the  old  man,  uncorking  a  bottle ;  "  but  I  tell  you,  it  is 
only  tormenting  the  dying." 

Dinah  cut  open  the  child's  night  dress,  and  bared  the 
fair,  round  chest,  to  which  the  leeches  clung  eagerly ; 
Daisy,  meanwhile,  remaining  motionless,  and  seemingly 
quite  insensible  to  the  disagreeable  pricking  sensation 
they  caused. 

"  The  other  doctor  is  below,"  whispered  Pat,  thrusting 
his  head  in  at  the  door. 

"  Bring  him  up,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

An  expression  of  pain  passed  over  the  young  man's 
features  as  his  eye  fell  upon  the  child.  As  yet,  he  had 


83 

not  become  so  professionally  hardened,  as  to  bo  able  to 
look  unmoved  upon  the  group  before  him,  whoso  implor 
ing  eyes  asked  vainly  of  him  the  help  no  mortal  hand 
could  give. 

A  few  questions  he  asked  to  avoid  being  questioned 
himself;  a  few  remedies  he  tried,  to  appease  the  mother's 
heart,  whose  mournful  eyes  were  on  him  like  a  spell. 

"  Water,"  said  Daisy,  faintly,  as  she  languidly  opened 
her  eyes. 

"  God  be  thanked,"'  said  Unih.  overcome  by  the  sound 
of  that  blessed  little  voice,  which  she  never  expected  to 
hear  again,  '•  God  be  thanked." 

The  young  doctor  rjlu.niv'd  no  answering  smile,  as 
Eutli  and  Harry  grasped  his  hand ;  but  he  walked  to  tho 
little  window  and  looked  out  upon  the  gray  dawn,  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  as  the  first  faint  streak  of  light  .ushered  in  the 
new-born  day. 

Still  the  lire-light  flashed  ami  flickered — now  upon  the 
old  doctor,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  arm  chair ;  now 
upon  Ruth's  bowed  head  ;  now  upon  Daisy,  who  lay  mo 
tionless  v'i  her  mother's  lap,  (the  deadly  paleness  of  her 
countenance  rendered  still  more  fearful  by  the  dark 
blood-stains  on  her  night  dress;)  then  upon  Harry,  who, 
kneeling  at  Daisy's  side,  and  stifibg  his  own  strong 
heart,  gazed  alternately  at  mother  and  child. ;  then  upon 
Dinah,  who,  with  folded  arms,  stood  like  some  grim  sen 
tinel,  in  the  shadow  of  the  farther  corner  ;  the  little 


84  R  U  T  IT       II  A  L  L  . 

mantle  clock,  meanwhile,   ticking,  ticking  on — number 
ing  the  passing  moments  with  startling  distinctness. 

Oh,  in  such  an  hour,  when  wave  after  wave  of  anguish 
dashes  over  us,  where  are  the  infidel's  boasted  doubts,  as 
the  tortured  heart  cries  out,  instinctively,  "  save,  Lord ; 
or  we  perish !" 

Slowly  the  night  waned,  and  the  stars  paled.  Up  the 
gray  east  the  golden  sun  slowly  glided.  One  beam  pene 
trated  the  little  window,  hovering  like  a  halo  over  Daisy's 
sunny  head.  A  quick,  convulsive  start,  and  with  one 
wild  cry  (as  the  little  throat  filled  to  suffocation),  the  fair 
white  arms  were  tossed  aloft,  then  dropped  powerless  up- 
n  the  bed  of  Death ! 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

can  be  no  sorrow  greater  than  this  sorrow," 
sobbed  Ruth,  as  the  heavy  sod  fell  on  Daisy's  little 
breast. 

In  after  years,  when  bitterer  cups  had  been  drained  to 
the  dregs,  Ruth  remembered  these,  her  murmuring  words. 
Ah !  mourning  mother  !  He  who  seeth  the  end  from  the 
beginning,  even  in  this  blow  "  remembered  mercy." 


"  Your  daughter-in-law  is  quite  crushed  by  her  afflic 
tion,  I  hear,"  said  a  neighbor  to  old  Mrs.  Hall. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Jones,  I  think  she  is,"  said  the  old  lady 
complacently.  "  It  has  taken  right  hold  of  her." 

"  It  died  of  croup,  I  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Jones. 

"  Well,  they  say  so,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  It  is  my 
opinion  the  child's  death  was  owing  to  the  thriftlessness 
of  the  mother.  I  don't  mourn  for  it,  because  I  believe 
the  poor  thing  is  better  off." 


86  R  .,  T  II       HALL. 

"  You  surprise  me,"  said  Mrs.  Jones.  "  I  always  had 
the  impression  that  young  Mrs.  Hall  was  a  pattern 
mother." 

"People  differ,"  said  the  old  lady,  raising  her  eye 
brows,  compressing  her  lips,  and  looking  mysteriously  at 
the  ceiling,  as  if  she  could  tell  a  tale,  were  she  not  too 
charitable. 

"  Well,  the  amount  of  it  is,"  said  the  garrulous  old 
doctor,  emerging  from  the  corner ;  "  the  amount  of  it  is, 
that  the  mother  always  thought  she  knew  better  than 
anybody  else  how  to  manage  that  child.  Now,  you 
know,  Mis.  Jones,  I  'm  a  physician,  and  ought  to  know 
something  about  the  laws  that  govern  the  human  body, 
but  you  'II  be  astonished  to  hear  that  she  frequently  acted 
directly  contrary  to  my  advice,  and  this  is  the  result ; 
that  tells  the  whole  story.  However,  as  Mis.  Hall  says, 
the  child  is  better  off;  and  as  to  Ruth,  why  the  Lord 
generally  sends  afflictions  where  they  are  needed;"  and 
the  doctor  returned  to  his  corner. 

"  It  looks  very  lonely  at  the  Glen  since  they  moved 
away,"  remarked  Mrs.  Jones.  "I  suppose  they  don't 
think  of  coming  back." 

"  How  1"  replied  the  doctor,  re-appearing  from  his 
corner. 

"  I  suppose  your  son  and  his  wife  have  no  idea  of  re 
turning  to  the  Glen,"  said  Mrs.  Jones. 

"  No — no.     Ruth  is  one  of  the  uneasy  kind ;  it's  com- 


R  U  T  I!       II  A  L  L  .  VI 

ing  and  going — coining  and  going  with  her.     She  fancied 
everything  in  doors  and  out  reminded  her  of  Daisy,  and* 
kept  wandering  round,  trying  to  be  rid  of  herself.     Now\ 
that  proves   she  did  n't  make  a  sanctifying  use  of  her! 
trouble.     It 's  no  use   trying  to  dodge  what   the    Lord! 

v          O  O 

sends.  We  Ve  just  got  to  stand  and  take  it ;  if  woj 
don't, he  Ml  be  sending  something  else.  Them  's  my  sent 
timents,  and  I  consider  'em  scripteral.  I  should  n't  be 
surprised  if  Harry  was  taken  away  from  her ; — a  poor, 
miserable  thing  she  'd  bo  to  take  care  of  herself,  if  he 
v,-;i>.  She  could  n't  earn  the  salt  to  her  porridge. 
Thriftless,  Mis.  Jones,  thriftless — come  of  a  bad  stock — 
can't  expect  good  fruit  off  a  wild  apple  tree,  at  least,  not 
without  grace  is  grafted  on  ;  that  tells  the  whole  story." 

"  Well ;  my  heart  aches  for  her,"  said  the  kind  Mrs. 
Jones.  "  Mrs.  Hall  is  very  delicately  organized, — one  of 
those  persons  capable  of  compressing  the  happiness  or 
misery  of  a  lifetime  into  a  few  moments." 

"Stuff,"  said  the  doctor,  "stuff;  don't  believe  it. 
I"m  an  example  to  the  contrary.  I  've  been  through 
everything,  and  just  look  at  me  ;*'  and  the  doctor  ad 
vanced  a  pace  or  two  to  give  Mrs.  Jones  a  better  view  of 
his  full-blown  peony  face,  and  aldermanic  proportions  ; 
u  don't  believe  it,  Mis.  Jones;  stuff!  Fashion  to  be 
sentimental ;  nerves  a  modern  invention.  Ridiculous  !" 

"  But,"  said  the  persistent  Mrs.  Jones,  "  don't  you 
think,  doctor,  that — " 


88  RUTHHALL. 

"  Don't  think  anything  about  it,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Don't  want  to  hear  anything  about  it.  Have  no  pa 
tience  with  any  woman  who  'd  let  a  husband  sell  a  farm 
at  such  a  sacrifice  as  Harry's  was  sold,  merely  because 
there  was  a  remote  chance  she  would  become  insane  if 
she  staid  there.  Now,  I  Ve  enough  to  do — plenty  to  do, 
but,  still,  I  was  willing  to  superintend  that  farm  a  little, 
as  my  doing  so  was  such  a  help  to  Harry.  Well,  well ; 
they  '11  both  go  to  the  dogs,  that 's  the  amount  of  it.  A 
rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss.  Harry  was  good  for 
something  before  he  married  Kuth ;  had  a  mind  of  his 
own.  Ruth  aint  the  wife  for  him." 

"  He  did  not  appear  to  think  so,"  replied  the  obstinate 
Mrs.  Jones.  "Everybody  in  the  village  says,  'what  a 
happy  couple  they  are.'  " 

"  0-o-h — my !"  hissed  the  old  lady,  "  did  you  ever, 
doctor1?  Of  course,  Mrs.  Jones,  you  don't  suppose 
Harry  would  be  such  a  fool  as  to  tell  people  how  misera 
ble  he  was ;  but  mothers,  Mrs.  Jones,  mothers  are  keen- 
sighted  ;  can't  throw  dust  in  a  mother's  eyes." 

"  Nor  in  mine"  retorted  the  independent  Mrs.  Jones, 
with  a  mock  courtesy  to  the  old  lady,  as  she  walked  out 
the  door,  muttering  as  she  went  down  the  road,  "  Sally 
Jones  will  tell  her  the  truth  if  nobody  else  will." 

"  Mis.  Hall,"  said  the  doctor,  drawing  himself  up  so 
straight  as  to  snap  off  his  waist-band  button,  "  this  is  the 
last  time  that  woman  ever  crosses  my  threshold.  I  shall 


RUTH       HALL.  89 

tell  Deacon  Smith  that  I  consider  her  a  proper  subject 
for  church  discipline  ;  she  's  what  the  bible  calls  '  a  busy 
body  in  other  men's  matters ;'  a  character  which  both 
you  and  I  despise  and  abominate,  Mis.  Hall." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


TT\IIE  fo&torn  !  Oh.  other  tiny  feet  may  tiip  lightly 
at  the  hearth-stone ;  other  rosy  faces  may  greet  us 
round  the  board;  with  tender  love  we  soothe  their 
childish  pains  and  share  their  childish  sports  ;  but  "  Ben- 
jamin  is  not,"  is  written  in  the  secret  chamber  of  many 
a  bereaved  mother's  heart,  where  never  more  the  echo 
of  a  childish  voice  may  ring  out  such  liquid  music  as 
death  hath  hushed. 

Spring  had  garlanded  the  earth  with  flowers,  and 
Autumn  had  withered  them  with  his  frosty  breath. 
Many  a  Summer's  sun,  and  many  a  Winter's  snow,  had 
rested  on  Daisy's  grave,  since  the  date  of  our  last  chapter. 

At  the  window  of  a  large  hotel  in  one  of  those  seaport 
towns,  the  resort  alike  of  the  invalid  and  pleasure-seeker, 
sat  Ruth ;  the  fresh  sea-breeze  lifting  her  hair  from  tem 
ples  thinner  and  paler  than  of  yore,  but  stamped  with  a 
holier  beauty.  From  the  window  might  be  seen  the 


II   \:  T  II       H  A  L  L  .  91 

blue  waters  of  the  bay  leaping  to  the  bright  sunlight ;  while 
many  a  vessel  outward  and  inward  bound,  spread  its 
sails,  like  some  joyous  white-winged  sea  bird.  But  Ruth 
was  not  thinking  of  the  sapphire  sky,  though  it  were  passing 
fair  ;  nor  of  the  blue  sea,  decked  with  its  snowy  sails ; 
for  in  her  lap  lay  a  little  half-worn  shoe,  with  the  impress 
of  a  tiny  foot,  upon  which  her  tears  were  falling  fast. 

A  I  title  half-worn  sloe !  And  yet  no  magician  could 
conjure  up  such  blissful  visions  ;  no  artist  could  trace 
such  vivid  pictures  ;  no  harp  of  sweetest  sounds  could  so 
fill  the  ear  with  music. 

Eight  years  since  the  little  Daisy  withered  !  And  yet, 
to  the  mother's  eye,  she  still  blossomed  fair  as  Paradise. 
The  soft,  golden  hair  still  waved  over  the  blue-veined 
temples ;  the  sweet,  earnest  eyes  still  beamed  with  their 
loving  light ;  the  little  fragile  hand  was  still  outstretched 
for  maternal  guidance,  and  in  the  wood  and  by  the 
stream  they  still  lingered.  Still,  the  little  hymn  was 
chanted  at  dawn,  the  little  prayer  lisped  at  dew-fall ;  still, 
that  gentle  breathing  mingled  with  the  happy  mother's 
star-lit  dreams. 

A  little,  bright-eyed  creature,  crept  to  Ruth's  side,  and 
lifting  a  long,  wavy,  golden  ringlet  from  a  box  on  the 
table  near  her,  laid  it  beside  her  own  brown  curls. 

"  Daisy 's  in  heaven,"  said  little  Katy,  musingly. 
"Why  do  you  cry,  mamma'?  Don't  you  like  to  have 
God  keep  her  for  you  ?" 


92  RUTHHALL. 

A  tear  was  the  only  answer. 

,      "7  should  like  to  die,  and  have  you  love  my  curls  as 
^  you  do  Daisy's,  mother." 

Ruth  started,  and  looked  at  the  child ;  the  rosy  flush 
had  faded  away  from  little  Katy's  cheek,  and  a  tear  stole 
slowly  from  beneath  her  long  lashes. 
/"    Taking  her  upon  her  lap,  she  severed  one  tress  of  her 
j  brown  hair,  and  laid  it  beside  little  Daisy's  golden  ring- 
Uet. 

A  bright,  glad  smile  lit  up  little  Katy's  face,  and  she 
was  just  throwing  her  arms  about  her  mother's  neck,  to 
express  her  thanks,  when,  stopping  suddenly,  she  drew 
from  her  dimpled  foot  one  little  shoe,  and  laid  it  in  her 
mother's  palm. 

'Mid  smiles  and  tears  Ruth  complied  with  the  mute  re 
quest  ;  and  the  little  sister  shoes  lay  with  the  twin  ring 
lets,  lovingly  side  by  side. 

! '  Blessed  childhood !  the  pupil  and  yet  the  teacher ;  half 
j  infant,  half  sage,  and  whole  angel !  what  a  desert  were 
\earth  without  thee ! 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


TJOTEL  life  is  about  the  same  in  every  latitude.  At 
Beach  Cliff  there  was  the  usual  number  of  vapid, 
fashionable  mothers  ;  dressy,  brainless  daughters ;  half- 
fledged  wine-bibbing  sons ;  impudent,  whisker-dyed 
roues ;  batchelors,  anxious  to  give  their  bashfulness  an 
airing ;  bronchial  clergymen,  in  search  of  health  and  a 
text ;  waning  virgins,  languishing  by  candle-light ;  gouty 
uncles,  dyspeptic  aunts,  whist-playing  old  ladies,  flirting 
nursery  maids  and  neglected  children. 

Then  there  were  "  hops  "  in  the  hall,  and  sails  upon 
the  lake  ;  there  were  nine-pin  alleys,  and  a  gymnasium  ; 
there  were  bathing  parties,  and  horse-back  parties  ;  there 
were  billiard  rooms,  and  smoking  rooms ;  reading 
rooms,  flirtation  rooms, — room  for  everything  but — 
thought. 

There  could  be  little  or  nothing  in  such  an  artificial 
atmosphere  congenial  with  a  nature  like  Ruth's.  In  ail 


94  RUTHHALL. 

this  motley  crowd  there  was  but  one  person  who  inter- 
ested  her,  a  Mrs.  Leon,  upon  whose  queenly  figure  all 
eyes  were  bent  as  she  passed ;  and  who  received  the 
homage  paid  her,  with  an  indifference  which  (whether 
real  or  assumed)  became  her  passing  well.  Her  hus 
band  was  a  tall,  prim,  proper-looking  person,  who  dyed 
his  hair  and  whiskers  every  Saturday,  was  extremely 
punctilious  in  all  points  of  etiquette,  very  particular  in 
his  stated  inquiries  as  to  his  wife's  and  his  horse's  health, 
very  fastidious  in  regard  to  the  brand  of  his  wine,  and 
the  quality  of  his  venison ;  maintaining,  under  all  circum 
stances,  the  same  rigidity  of  feature,  the  same  immo 
bility  of  the  cold,  stony,  gray  eye,  the  same  studied, 
stereotyped,  conventionalism  of  manner. 

Ruth,  although  shunning  society,  found  herself  drawn 
to  Mrs.  Leon  by  an  unaccountable  magnetism.  Little 
Katy,  too,  with  that  unerring  instinct  with  which  child 
hood  selects  from  the  crowd,  an  unselfish  and  loving  na 
ture,  had  already  made  rapid  advances  toward  acquaint 
ance.  What  road  to  a  mother's  heart  so  direct,  as 
through  the  heart  of  her  children  ?  With  Katy  for  a 
"  medium,"  the  two  ladies  soon  found  themselves  in  fre 
quent  conversation.  Ruth  had  always  shrunk  from 
female  friendship.  It  might  be  that  her  boarding-school 
experience  had  something  to  do  in  effecting  this  whole 
sale  disgust  of  the  commodity.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
she  had  never  found  any  woman  who  had  not  misunder- 


RUTHHALL.  05 

stood  and  misinterpreted  her.  For  the  common  female! 
employments  and  recreations,  she  had  an  unqualified  dis/ 
gust.  Satin  patchwork,  the  manufacture  of  German 
worsted  animals,  bead-netting,  crotchet-stitching,  long 
discussions  with  milliners,  dress-makers,  and  modistes, 
long  forenoons  spent  in  shopping,  or  leaving  bits  of 
paste-board,  party-giving,  party-going,  prinking  and 
coquetting,  all  these  were  her  aversion.  Equally  with 
herself,  Mrs.  Leon  seemed  to  despise  these  air  bubbles. 
Ruth  was  sure  that,  under  that  faultless,  marble  exterior, 
a  glowing,  living,  loving  heart  lay  slumbering;  wailing 
only  the  enchanter's  touch  to  wake  it  into  life.  Tlie 
more  she  looked  into  those  dark  eyes,  the  deeper  seemed 
their  depths.  Ruth  longed,  she  scarce  knew  why,  to 
make  her  life  happy.  Oh,  if  she  had  a  soul ! 

Ruth  thought  of  Mr.  Leon  and  shuddered. 

Mrs.  Leon  was  often  subject  to  severe  and  prostrating 
attacks  of  nervous  headache.  On  these  occasions,  Ruth's 
magnetic  touch  seemed  to  woo  coy  slumber,  like  a 
spell ;  and  the  fair  sufferer  would  lie  peacefully  for  hours, 
while  Ruth's  fingers  strayed  over  her  temples,  or  her 
musical  voice,  like  David's  harp,  exorcised  the  demon 
Pain. 

"  You  are  better  now,"  said  Ruth,  as  Mrs.  Leon  slow 
ly  opened  her  eyes,  and  looked  about  her ;  "  you  have 
had  such  a  nice  sleep,  I  think  you  will  be  able  to  join  us 
at  the  tea  table  to-night.  I  will  brush  these  long  dishev- 


96  RUTH       HALL. 

elled  locks,  and  robe  these  dainty  limbs  ;  though,  to  my 
eye,  you  look  lovelier  just  as  you  are.  You  are  very 
beautiful,  Mary.  I  heard  a  couple  of  young  ladies  dis 
cussing  you,  in  the  drawing-room,  the  other  evening,  en 
vying  your  beauty  and  your  jewels,  and  the  magnificence 
of  your  wardrobe. 

"Did  they  envy  me  my  husband?"  asked  Mary,  in  a 
slow,  measured  tone. 

"  That  would  have  been  useless,"  said  Euth,  averting 
her  eyes ;  "  but  they  said  he  denied  you  nothing  in  the 
way  of  dress,  equipage,  or  ornament." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary ;  "  I  have  all  those  pretty  toys  to 
/  satisfy  my  heart-cravings  ;  they,  equally  with  myself,  are 
(  necessary  appendages  to  Mr.  Leon's  establishment.  Oh, 
Kuth  !"  and  the  tears  streamed  through  her  jewelled  fin 
gers — "  love  me — pity  me ;  you  who  are  so  blessed.  I 
too  could  love ;  that  is  the  drop  of  poison  in  my  cup. 
When  your  daughters  stand  at  the  altar,  Ruth,  never 
compel  them  to  say  words  to  which  the  heart  yields  no 
response.  The  chain  is  none  the  less  galling,  because  its 
links  are  golden.  God  bless  you,  Ruth ;  'tis  long  since 
I  have  shed  such  tears.  You  have  touched  the  rock  ;  for 
get  that  the  waters  have  gushed  forth." 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

/~\CTOBER  had  come !  coy  and  chill  in  the  morning, 
warm  and  winning  at  noon,  veiling  her  coat  of  many 
colors  in  a  fleecy  mist  at  evening,  vet  lovely  stfll  in  all 
her  changeful  moods.  The  gay  butterflies  of  fashion  had 
already  spread  their  shrivelled  wings  for  the  warmer  at 
mosphere  of  the  city.  Harry  and  Ruth  still  lingered  ; — 
there  was  beauty  for  them  in  the  hill-side's  rainbow  dyes, 
in  the  crimson  barberry  clusters,  drooping  from  the  way 
side  hedges  ;  in  the  wild  grape-vine  that  threw  off  its 
frost-bitten  leaves,  to  tempt  the  rustic's  hand  with  its 
purple  clusters  ;  in  the  piles  of  apples,  that  lay  gathered 
in  parti-colored  heaps  beneath  the  orchard  trees ;  in  the 
yellow  cars  of  Indian  corn,  that  lay  scattered  on  the  seedy 
floor  of  the  breezy  barn  ;  in  the  festoons  of  dried  apples, 
and  mammoth  squnshos.  and  pumpkins,  that  lay  ripening 
round  the  thrifty  farmers'  doors  ;  and  in  the  circling 

4 


98 


RUTH     HAL 


leaves,  that  came  eddying  down  in  brilliant  showers  on 
the  Indian  summer's  soft  but  treacherous  breath. 


•'  You  are  ill,  Harry,"  said  Ruth,  laying  her  hand  upon 
his  forehead. 

"Slightly  so,"  replied  Harry  languidly;  "a  pain  in 
my  head,  and — " 

A  strong  ague  chill  prevented  Harry  from  finishing  the 
sentence. 

Ruth,  who  had  never  witnessed  an  attack  of  this  kind, 
grew  pale  as  his  teeth  chattered,  and  his  powerful  frame 
shook  violently  from  head  to  foot. 

"Have  you  suffered  much  in  this  way?"  asked  the 
physician  who  was  summoned. 

"I  had  the  fever  and  ague  very  badly,  some  years 
since,  at  the  west,"  said  Harry.  '"It  is  an  unpleasant 
visitor,  doctor ;  you  must  rid  me  of  it  as  soon  as  you 
can,  for  the  sake  of  my  little  wife,  who,  though  she  can  en 
dure  pain  herself  like  a  martyr,  is  an  arrant  little  coward 
whenever  it  attacks  me.  Don't  look  so  sober,  Ruth,  1 
shall  be  better  to-morrow.  I  can  not  afford  time  to  be  sick 
long,  for  I  have  a  world  of  business  on  hand.  I  had  an  im 
portant  appointment  this  very  day,  which  it  is  a  thousand 
pities  to  postpone ;  but  never  mind,  I  shall  certainly 
be  better  to-morrow." 


R  r  T  II       II  ALL.  Ui> 

But  Harry  wa*  not  u  bcttci  to-morrow  ;"  nor  the  next 
day  ;  nor  the  next ;  the  doctor  pronouncing  his  case  to 
he  one  of  decided  typhus  fever. 

Very  reluctantly  the  active  man  postponed  his  hall- 
formed  plans,  and  business  speculations,  and  allowed  him 
self  to  be  placed  on  the  sick  list.  With  a  sigh  of  impa 
tience,  he  saw  his  hat,  and  coat,  and  boots,  put  out  of 
sight ;  and  watched  the  different  phials,  as  they  came  in 
from  the  apothecary  ;  and  counted  the  stroke  of  the 
clock,  as  it  told  the  tedious  hours  ;  and  marvelled  at  the 
patience  with  which  (he  now  recollected)  Ruth  bore  a 
long  bed-ridden  eight-weeks'  martyrdom,  without  a  groan 
or  complaint.  But  soon,  other  thoughts  and  images 
mixed  confusedly  in  his  brain,  like  the  shifting  colors 
of  a  kaleidoscope.  He  was  floating — drifting — sinking — 
soaring,  by  turns  ; — the  hot  blood  coursed  through  his 
veins  like  molten  lava ;  his  eye  glared  deliriously,  and 
the  hand,  never  raised  but  in  blessing,  fell,  with  fevered 
strength,  upon  the  unresisting  form  of  the  loving  wife. 

"  You  must  have  a  nurse,''  said  the  doctor  to  Ruth; 
c-  it  is  dangerous  for  you  to  watch  with  your  husband 
alone.  He  might  injure  you  seriotislv,  in  one  of  these 
paroxysms.'1' 

';  But  Harry  has  an  unconquerable  dislike  to  n  hired 
nurse,"  said  Ruth;  "his  reason  may  return  at  any  mo- 


1 00  R  U  T  II       II  A  L  L  . 

ment,  and  the  sight  of  one  will  trouble  him.  .  I  am  not 
afraid,"  replied  Ruth,  between  a  tear  and  a  smile. 

"  But  you  will  wear  yourself  out ;  you  must  remem 
ber  that  you  owe  a  duty  to  your  children." 

"My  husband  has  the  first  claim,"  said  Ruth,  resum 
ing  her  place  by  the  bed-side ;  and  during  the  long  hours 
of  day  and  night,  regardless  of  the  lapse  of  time — re 
gardless  of  hunger,  thirst  or  weariness,  she  glided  noise 
lessly  about  the  room,  arranged  the  pillows,  mixed  the 
healing  draught,  or  watched  with  a  silent  prayer  at  the 
sufferer's  bed-side ;  while  Harry  lay  tossing  from  side  to 
side,  his  white  teeth  glittering  through  his  unshorn  beard, 
•  raving  constantly  of  her  prolonged  absence,  and  implor 
ing  her  in  heart-rending  tones  to  come  to  his  side,  and 
<;  bring  Daisy  from  the  Glen." 

Many  a  friendly  voice  whispered  at  the  door,  "  How 
is  he1?"  The  Irish  waiters  crossed  themselves  and 
stept  softly  through  the  hall,  as  they  went  on  their 
hasty  errands  ;  and  many  a  consultation  was  held  among 
warm-hearted  gentlemen  friends,  (who  had  made  Harry's 
acquaintance  at  the  hotel,  during  the  pleasant  summer,) 
to  decide  which  should  first  prove  their  friendship  by 
watching  with  him. 

Ruth  declined  all  these  offers  to  fill  her  place.  "  I  will 
never  leave  him,"  she  said ;  "  his  reason  may  return,  and 
his  eye  seek  vainly  for  me.  No — no  ;  I  thank  you  all. 


R  U  T  II        II  A  L  L  .  101 

Watch  with  me,  if  you  will,  but  do  not  ask  me  to  leave 
him." 

In  the  still  midnight,  when  the  lids  of  the  kind  but 
weary  watchers  drooped  heavily  with  slumber,  rang 
mournfully  in  Ruth's  car  the  sad  plaint  of  Gethsemane's 
Lord,  "Could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour?''  and 
pressing  her  lips  to  the  hot  and  levered  hand  before  her, 
she  murmured,  "  I  will  never  leave  thee.  nor  forsake 
thee." 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 


"  TJAVE  you  got  the  carpet-bag,  doctor  1  and  the  little 
brown  bundle  1  and  the  russet-trunk  ]  and  the  um- 
beril  ?  and  the  demi-john,  and  the  red  band-box,  with  my 
best  cap  in  it  1  one — two — three — four ;  yes — that 's  all 
right.  Now,  mind  those  thievish  porters.  Goodness, 
how  they  charge  here  for  carriage  hire!  I  never  knew, 
before,  how  much  money  it  took  to  journey.  Oh  dear ! 
I  wonder  if  Harry  is  worse  ?  There  now,  doctor, 
you  Ve  put  your  foot  right  straight  through  that  band 
box.  Now,  where,  for  the  land's  sake,  are  my  specta 
cles  ?  'Tis  n't  possible  you  Ve  left  them  behind  ?  I  put 
them  in  the  case,  as  you  stood  there  in  the  chayna  closet, 
drinking  your  brandy  and  water,  and  asked  you  to  put 
them  in  your  side-pocket,  because  my  bag  was  full  of 
orange-peels,  scissors,  camphor,  peppermint-drops,  and 
seed-cakes.  I  wouldn't  have  left  'em  for  any  money. 
Such  a  sight  of  trouble  as  it  was  to  get  them  focussed 


II  A  L  L  .  103 

right  to  my  eyes.     How  could  you,  doctor,  be  so   blun 
dering  ?     I  declare  it  is  enough  to  provoke  a  saint." 

;-  It*  that 's  the  ease,  there  's  no  immediate  call  for  you 
to  get  vexed.''  said  the  doctor,  tartly. 

';  Is  that  the  house  ?"  asked  the  old  lady,  her  curiosity 
getting  the  better  of  her  indignation ;  "  what  a  big  hotel ! 
I  wonder  if  Harry  is  worse  ?  Mercy  me,  I  'm  all  of  a 
quiver.  I  wonder  if  they  will  take  us  right  into  the 
drawing-room  ?  I  wonder  if  there  's  many  ladies  in  it — 
my  bonnet  is  awfully  jammed:  beside,  I  'm  so  powdered 
with  dust,  that  I  look  as  if  I  had  had  an  ash  barrel  sifted 
over  me.  Doctor  !  doctor  !  don't  go  on  so  far  ahead. 
It  looks  awk'ard,  as  if  I  had  no  protector." 

"  How  's  Harry  ?"  said  the  doctor,  to  a  white-jack 
et  ted  waiter,  who  stood  gossipping  on  the  piazza  steps 
with  a  comrade. 

':  Funny  old  chap !"  said  the  waiter,  without  noticing 
the  doctor's  query;  "I  say.  Bill,  look  how  his  hair  is 

cut  r 

':  'Taint  hair,"  said  Tom,  "  it  is  a  wig." 

"  Bless  my  eyes  !  so  it  is  ;  and  a  red  one,  too  !  Bad 
symptoms;  reel  wigs  are  the  cheapest;  no  extra  fees  to 
be  got  out  of  that  customer,  for  blacking  boots  and 
bringing  hot  beafsteaks.  Besides,  just  look  at  his  bag 
gage  ;  you  can  al  \vays  judge  of  a  traveler.  Bill,  by  his 


1 04  H  U  T  H       H  A  L  L  . 

trunks;  it  never  fails.  Now,  /  like  to  see  a  trunk 
thickly  studded  with  brass  nails,  and  covered  with  a 
linen  overall ;  then  I  know,  if  it  is  a  lady's,  that  there  's 
diamond  rings  inside,  and  plenty  of  cash ;  if  'tis  a  gen 
tleman's,  that  he  knows  how  to  order  sherry-cobblers 
in  the  forenoon,  and  a  bottle  of  old  wine  or  two  with  his 
dinner ;  and  how  to  fee  the  poor  fellow  who  brings  it, 
too,  who  lives  on  a  small  salary,  with  large  expectations." 

"  How 's  Harry  f  thundered  the  doctor  again,  (after 
waiting  what  he  considered  a  reasonable  time  for  an  an 
swer,)  "  or  if  you  are  too  lazy  to  tell,  you  whiskered 
jackanapes,  go  call  your  employer." 

The  word  "  employer"  recalled  the  rambling  waiter  to 
his  senses,  and  great  was  his  consternation  on  finding  that 
"  the  old  chap  with  the  red  wig"  was  the  father  of  young 
Mr.  Hall,  who  was  beloved  by  everything  in  the  estab 
lishment,  down  to  old  Neptune  the  house-dog. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  the  doctor,  turning  to  his  wife  ; 
"Harry's  no  better — consultation  this  morning — very 
little  hope  of  him ; — so  much  for  my  not  being  here  to 
prescribe  for  him.  Ruth  shouldered  a  great  responsibility 
when  she  brought  him  away  out  of  reach  of  my  practice. 
You  go  into  that  room,  there,  Mis.  Hall,  No.  20,  with 
your  traps  and  things,  and  take  off  your  bonnet  and  keep 
quiet,  while  I  go  up  and  see  him." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

"  TJUMPII !"  said  the  doctor,  ;:  humph !"  as  Ruth  drew 

*"*•  aside  the  curtain,  and  the  light  fell  full  upon  Harry's 
face.     "Humph!  it  is  all  up  with  him;  he's  in  the  last 
stage  of  the  complaint ;  won't  live  two  days ;"  and  step 
ping  to  the  table,  the  doctor  uncorked  the  different  phials, 
applied  them  to  the  end  of  his  nose,  examined  the  labels, 
and   then   returned   to   the   bed-side,  where    Ruth  stood 
bending  over  Harry,  so  pallid,  so  tearless,  that  one  in-\ 
voluntarily  prayed  that  death,  when  he  aimed  his  dart,! 
might  strike  down  both  together. 

"  Humph!"  said  the  doctor  again  !  "  when  did  he  have 
his  reason  last  ?" 

"  A  few  moments,  day  before  yesterday,"  said  Ruth, 
without  removing  her  eyes  from  Harry. 

"  Well ;  he  has  been  murdered, — yes  murdered,  just 
as  much  as  if  you  had  seen  the  knife  put  to  his  throat. 
That  tells  the  whole  story,  and  I  don't  care  who  knows 


10G  RUTH       HALL. 

it.  I  have  been  looking  at  those  phials, — wrong  course 
of  treatment  altogether  for  typhoid  fever  ;  fatal  mistake, 
His  death  will  lie  heavy  at  somebody's  door,"  and  he 
glanced  at  Ruth. 

"  Hush !  he  is  coming  to  himself,"  said  Ruth,  whose 
eyes  had  never  once  moved  from  her  husband. 

"  Then  I  must  tell  him  that  his  hours  are  numbered," 
said  the  doctor,  thrusting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
pompously  walking  round  the  bed. 

"  No,  no,"  whispered  Ruth,  grasping  his  arm  with  both 
hands ;  "  you  will  kill  him.  The  doctor  said  it  might 
destroy  the  last  chance  for  his  life.  Don't  tell  him.  You 
know  he  is  not  afraid  to  die  ;  but  oh,  spare  him  the  part 
ing  with  me  !  it  will  be  so  hard  ;  he  loves  me,  father." 

"  Pshaw !"  said  the  doctor,  shaking  her  off;  "  he  ought 
x>  settle  up  his  affairs  while  he  can.  I  don't  know  how 
ne  wants  things  fixed.  Harry  !  Harry  !"  said  he,  touch 
ing  his  shoulder,  "I  Ve  come  to  see  you ;  do  you  know  me?" 

"  Father !"  said  Harry,  languidly,  "  yes,  I  'm — I  'm 
sick.  I  shall  be  better  soon ;  don't  worry  about  me. 
Where  's  my  wife  ?  where  's  Ruth  ?" 
...  "  You  '11  never  be  better,  Harry,"  said  the  doctor, 
bluntly,  stepping  between  him  and  Ruth;  "you  may 
not  live  the  day  out.  If  you  have  got  anything  to  say, 
you  'd  better  say  it  now,  before  you*  mind  wanders. 
You  are  a  dead  man,  Harry ;  and  you  know  that  when 
I  say  that,  I  know  what  I  'm  talking  about." 


II  U  T  II       II  A  L  L  .  107 

The  sick  man  gazed  at  trio  speaker,  as  if  he  were  in  a 
dream ;  then  slowly,  and  with  a  great  effort,  raising 
his  head,  he  looked  about  the  room  for  Ruth.  She  was 
kneeling  at  the  bedside,  with  her  face  buried  in  her 
hands.  Harry  reached  out  his  emaciated  hand,  and 
placed  it  upon  her  bowed  head. 

'•Ruth?  wife?" 

Her  arm  was  about  his  neck  in  an  instant — her  lips  to 
his ;  but  her  eyes  were  tearless,  and  her  whole  frame 
shook  convulsively. 

"  Oh,  how  can  I  leave  you?  who  will  care  for  you  11 
Oh  God,  in  mercy  spare  me  to  her;*'  and  Harry  fell) 
back  on  his  pillow. 

The  shock  was  too  sudden ;  reason  again  wandered ; 
he  heard  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  cars,  recalling  him  to 
the  city's  whirl  of  business  ;  he  had  stocks  to  negotiate  ; 
he  had  notes  to  pay ;  he  had  dividends  due.  Then  the 
scene  changed  ; — he  could  not  be  carried  on  a  hearse 
through  the  street,  surrounded  by  a  gaping  crowd. 
Ruth  must  go  alone  with  him,  by  night ; — why  must  ho. 
die  at  all  ?  He  would  take  anything.  Where  was  tlio 
doctor  1  Why  did  they  waste  time  in  talking  1  Why 
not  do  something  more  for  him  ?  How  cruel  of  Ruth  to 
let  him  lie  there  and  die  ? 

"  We  will  try  this  new  remedy,"  said  one  of  the  con 
sulting  physicians  to  Harry's  father ;  "it  is  the  only 


108  RUTH       HALL. 

thing  that  remains  to  be  done,  and  I  confess  I  have  no 
faith  in  its  efficacy  in  this  case." 

"  He  rallies  again  !"  said  Ruth,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  The  children  !"  said  Harry  ;  "  bring  me  the  chil 
dren." 

"  Presently,"  said  the  new  physician  ;  "  try  and  swal 
low  this  first ;"  and  he  raised  his  head  tenderly. 

They  were  brought  him.     Little  Nettie  came  -first, — 

/her  dimpled  arms  and  rosy  face  in  strange  contrast  to 

the  pallid  lips  she  bent,  in  childish  glee,  to  kiss.     Then 

little  Katy,  shrinking  with  a  strange  awe  from  the  dear 

papa  she  loved  so  much,  and  sobbing,  she  scarce  knew 

why,  at  his  whispered  words,  "  Be  kind  to  your  mother, 

\Katy." 

Again  Harry's  eyes  sought  Ruth.  She  was  there,  but 
a  film — a  mist  had  come  between  them ;  he  could  not 
see  her,  though  he  felt  her  warm  breath. 

And  now,  that  powerful  frame  collected  all  its  remain 
ing  energies  for  the  last  dread  contest  with  death.  So 
fearful — so  terrible  was  the  struggle,  that  friends  stood 
by,  with  suppressed  breath  and  averted  eyes,  while  Ruth 
alone,  with  a  fearful  calmness,  hour  after  hour,  wiped  the 
death  damp  from  his  brow,  and  the  oozing  foam  from 
his  pallid  lips. 

"  He  is  gone,"  said  the  old  doctor,  laying  Harry's 
hand  down  upon  the  coverlid. 


R  U  T  II       HALL.  109 

"  No  ;  he  breathes  again." 

"  Ah ;  that 's  his  last !" 

"  Take  her  away,"  said  the  doctor,  as  Ruth  fell  heavily 
across  her  husband's  body  ;  and  the  unresisting  form  of 
the  insensible  wife  was  borne  into  the  next  room. 

Strange  hands  closed  Harry's  eyes,  parted  his  damp 
locks,  straightened  his  manly  limbs,  and  folded  the  mar 
ble  hands  over  as  noble  a  heart  as  ever  lay  cold  and  still 
beneath  a  shroud. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"  TT  is  really  quite  dreadful  to  see  her  in  this  way," 
said  Hyacinth,  as  they  chafed  Ruth's  hands  and 
bathed  her  temples ;  "  it  is  really  quite  dreadful.  Some 
body  ought  to  tell  her,  when  she  comes  to,  that  her  hair  is 
parted  unevenly  and  needs  brushing  sadly.  Harry's  finely- 
chiseled  features  look  quite  beautiful  in  repose.  It  is  a 
pity  the  barber  should  have  been  allowed  to  shave  off  his 
beard  after  death ;  it  looked  quite  oriental  and  pic 
turesque.  But  the  sight  of  Ruth,  in  this  way,  is  really 
dreadful ;  it  quite  unnerves  me.  I  shall  look  ten  years 
older  by  to-morrow.  I  must  go  down  and  take  a  turn  or 
two  on  the  piazza."  And  Hyacinth  paced  up  and  down, 
thinking — not  of  the  bereaved  sister,  who  lay  mercifully 
insensible  to  her  loss,  nor  yet  of  the  young  girl  whose 
heart  was  to  throb  trustfully  at  the  altar,  by  his  side,  on 
the  morrow, — but  of  her  broad  lands  and  full  coffers, 
with  which  he  intended  to  keep  at  bay  the  haunting  credi- 


R  U  T  H       II  A  L  L.  1  11 

tors,  who  were  impertinent   enough  to  spoil  his  daily 
digestion  by  asking  for  their  just  dues. 

One  o'clock  !  The  effect  of  the  sleeping  potion  admin 
istered  to  Ruth  had  passed  away.  Slowly  she  unclosed 
her  eyes  and  gazed  about  her.  The  weary  nurse,  forget 
ful  of  her  charge,  had  sunk  into  heavy  slumber. 

Where  was  Harry  ? 

Ruth  presses  her  hands  to  her  temples.  Oh  God !  the 
consciousness  that  would  come !  the  frantic  out-reaching 
of  the  arms  to  clasp — a  vain  shadow  ! 

Where  had  they  lain  him  ? 

She  crossed  the  hall  to  Harry's  sick  room  ;  the  key 
was  in  the  lock ;  she  turned  it  with  trembling  fingers. 
Oh  God  !  the  dreadful  stillness  of  that  outlined  form ! 
the  calm  majesty  of  that  marble  brow,  on  which  the 
moonbeams  fell  as  sweetly  as  if  that  peaceful  sleep  was 
but  to  restore  him  to  her  widowed  arms.  That  half- 
filled  glass,  from  which  his  dying  lips  had  turned  away  ; 
— those  useless  phials  ; — that  watch — hij  watch — moving 
— and  he  so  still ! — the  utter  helplessness  of  human  aid ; — • 
the  dreadful  might  of  Omnipotence  ! 

"Harry!" 

Oh,  when  was  he  ever  deaf  before  to  the  music  of  that 
voice?  Oh,  how  could  Ru{h  (God  forgive  her!)  look 
upon  those  dumb  lips  ar>d  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done !" 


I  J  ^  RUTHIIALL. 

"  Horrible !"  muttered  Hyacinth,  as  the  undertaker 
passed  him  on  the  stairs  with  Harry's  coffin.  "  These 
business  details  are  very  shocking  to  a  sensitive  person. 
I  beg  your  pardon ;  did  you  address  me  1"  said  he,  to  a 
gentleman  who  raised  his  hat  as  he  passed. 

"  I  wished  to  do  so,  though  an  entire  stranger  to  you," 
said  the  gentleman,  with  a  sympathizing  glance,  which 
was  quite  thrown  away  on  Hyacinth.  *'  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  living  under  the  same  roof,  this  summer,  with 
your  afflicted  sister  and  her  noble  husband,  and  have  be 
come  warmly  attached  to  both.  In  common  with  several 
warm  friends  of  your  brother-in-law,  I  am  pained  to  learn 
that,  owing  to  the  failure  of  parties  for  whom  he  had  be 
come  .responsible,  there  will  be  little  or  nothing  for  the 
widow  and  her  children,  when  his  affairs  are  settled.  It  is 
our  wish  to  make  up  a  purse,  and  request  her  acceptance 
of  it,  through  you,  as  a  slight  token  of  the  estimation  in 
which  we  held  her  husband's  many  virtues.  I  under 
stand  you  are  to  leave  before  the  funeral,  which  must  be 
my  apology  for  intruding  upon  you  at  so  unseasonable 
an  hour." 

With  the  courtliest  of  bows,  in  the  blandest  of  tones, 
Hyacinth  assured,  while  he  thanked  Mr.  Kendall,  that 
himself,  his  father,  and,  indeed,  all  the  members  of  the 
family,  were  abundantly  able,  and  most  solicitous,  to  sup 
ply  every  want,  and  anticipate  every  wish  of  Ruth  and 
her  children ;  and  that  it  was  quite  impossible  she  should 


R  U  T  H       II  A  L  L  .  118 

ever  suffer  for  anything,  or  be  obliged  in  any  way,  at  any 
future  time,  to  exert  herself  for  her  own.  or  their  sup 
port  ;  all  of  which  good  news  for  Ruth  highly  gratified 
Mr.  Kendall,  who  grasped  the  velvet  palm  of  Hyacinth, 
and  dashed  away  a  grateful  tear,  that  the  promise  to  the 
widow  and  fatherless  was  remembered  in  heaven. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 


"  fTlHEY  are  very  attentive  to  us  here,"  remarked  the 
*  doctor,  as  one  after  another  of  Harry's  personal 
friends  paid  their  respects,  for  his  sake,  to  the  old  couple 
at  No.  20.  "  Very  attentive,  and  yet,  Mis.  Hall,  I  only 
practiced  physic  in  this  town  six  months,  five  years  ago. 
It  is  really  astonishing  how  long  a  good  physician  will  be 
remembered,"  and  the  doctor  crossed  his  legs  comfort 
ably,  and  tapped  on  his  snuff-box. 

"  Ruth's  brother,  Hyacinth,  leaves  before  the  funeral, 
doctor,"  said  the  old  la^y.  "  I  suppose  you  see  through 
that.  He  intends  to  be  off  and  out  of  the  way,  before 
the  time  comes  to  decide  where  Ruth  shall  put  her  head, 
after  Harry  is  buried ;  and  there 's  her  father,  just  like 
him ;  he  has  been  as  uneasy  as  an  eel  in  a  frying-pan, 
ever  since  he  came,  and  this  morning  he  went  off,  with 
out  asking  a  question  about  Harry's  affairs.  I  suppose  he 
thinks  it  is  our  business,  and  he  owning  bank  stock.  I  tell 


you,   doctor,   that   Kuth   may  go   a-begging,  for  all    the 
help  she  '11  get  from  her  folks." 

"  Or  from  me,  either,''  said  the  doctor,  thrusting  his 
thumbs  into  the  arm-holes  of  his  vest,  and  striding  across 
the  room.  "She  has  been  a  spoiled  baby  long  enough ; 
she  will  laid  earning  her  living  a  different  thing  from  sit 
ting  with  her  hands  folded,  with  Harry  chained  to  herl 
feet." 

k-  What  did  you  do  with  that  bottle  of  old  wine,  Mis. 
Hall,  which  I  told  you  to  bring  out  of  Harry's  room  ? 
He  never  drank  but  one  glass  of  it,  after  that  gentleman 
sent  it  to  him,  and  we  might  as  well  have  it  as  to  let 
those  lazy  waiters  drink  it  up.  There  were  two  or  three 
bunches  of  grapes,  too,  he  did  n't  eat ;  you  had  better 
take  them,  too,  while  you  are  about  it." 

••  Well,  it  don't  seem,  after  all,  as  if  Harry  was  dead," 
said  the  doctor,  musingly ;  "  but  the  Lord's  will  be 
done.  Here  comes  your  dress-maker,  Mis.  Hall." 


"  Good  afternoon,  ma'am,  good  afternoon,  sir,"  said 
Miss  Skinlin,  with  a  doleful  whine,  drawing  down 
the  corners  of  her  mouth  and  eyes  to  suit  the  occasion. 
"  Sad  affliction  you  'vc  met  with.  As  our  minister  says, 
'  man  is  like  the  herb  of  the  field  ;  blooming  to-day, 
withered  to-morrow.'  Life  is  short :  will  you  have  your 
dress  gathered  or  biased,  ma'am  ?" 


116  RUTH     HALL. 

"  Quite  immaterial,"  said  the  old  lady,  anxious  to  ap« 
pear  indifferent ;  "  though  you  may  as  well,  I  suppose, 
do  it  the  way  which  is  worn  the  most." 

"  Well,  some  likes  it  one  way,  and  then  again,  some 
likes  it  another.  The  doctor's  wife  in  the  big,  white 
house  yonder — do  you  know  the  doctor's  wife,  ma'am  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  Nice  folks,  ma'am ;  open-handed ;  never  mind  my  giv 
ing  'em  back  the  change,  wThen  they  pay  me.  She  was  a 
Skefflit.  Do  you  know  the  Skefflits  ?  Possible  ?  why 
they  are  our  first  folks.  Well,  la,  where  was  I  ?  Oh !  the 
doctor's  wife  has  her  gowns  biased ;  but  then  she 's  getting 
fat,  and  wants  to  look  slender.  I  'd  advise  you  to  have 
yourn  gathered.  Dreadful  affliction  you  've  met  with, 
ma'am.  Beautiful  corpse,  your  son  is.  I  always  look  at 
corpses  to  remind  me  of  my  latter  end.  Some  corpses 
keep  much  longer  than  others  ;  don't  you  think  so, 
ma'am  ?  They  tell  me  your  son's  wife  is  most  crazy, 
because  they  doted  on  one  another  so." 

The  doctor  and  his  wife  exchanged  meaning  looks. 

"  Do  tell  ?"  said  Miss  Skinlin,  dropping  her  shears. 
"  Well,  I  never !  '  How  desaitful  the  heart  is,'  as  our 
minister  says.  Why,  everybody  about  here  took  'em 
for  regular  turtle-doves." 

"  '  All  is  not  gold  that  glitters,'  remarked  the  old  lady. 
"  There  is  many  a  heart-ache  that  nobody  knows  any 
thing  about,  but  He  who  made  the  heart.  In  my  opin- 


R  U  T  II       II  A  L  L.  1  1? 

ion  our  son  was  not  anxious  to  continue  in  this  world  of 
trial  longer." 

"  You  don't  ?"  said  Miss  Skinlin.     "  Pious  ?" 

"  Certainly"  said  the  doctor.  ';  Was  ho  not  our  son  ? 
Though,  since  his  marriage,  his  wife's  influence  was  very 
worldly.'' 

v>  Pity,"  whined  Miss  Skinlin ;  "  professors  should  let 
their  light  shine,  /always  try  to  drop  a  word  in  season, 
wherever  business  calls  me.  Will  you  have  a  cross-way 
fold  on  your  sleeve,  ma'am  ?  I  don't  think  it  would  be 
out  of  place,  even  on  this  mournful  occasion.  Mrs.  Tufts 
wore  one  when  her  eldest  child  died,  and  she  was  dread 
ful  grief-stricken.  1  remember  she  gave  me  (poor  dear  !) 
a  five-dollar  note,  instead  of  a  two  ;  but  that  was  a  thing 
I  had  n't  the  heart  to  harass  her  about  at  such  a  time.  I 
respected  her  grief  too  much,  ma'am.  Did  I  understand 
you  that  I  was  to  put  the  cross-way  folds  on  your  sleeve, 
ma'am  ?"' 

"  You  may  do  us  you  like,"  whined  the  old  lady ; 
i;  people  do  dress  more  at  hotels." 

4:  Yes,"  said  Miss  Skinlin  ;  "  and  I  often  feel  reproved  for 
aiding  and  abetting  such  foolish  vanities  ;  and  yet,  if  I  re 
fused,  from  conscientious  scruples,  to  trim  dresses,  I  sup 
pose  somebody  else  would;  so  you  see,  it  wouldn't  do 
any  good.  Your  daughter-in-law  is  left  rich,  I  suppose. 
I  always  think  that 's  a  great  consolation  to  a  bereaved 
widow." 


118  RUTH       HALL. 

"  You  need  n't  suppose  any  such  thing,"  said  the  doctor, 
facing  Miss  Skinlin  ;  "  she  has  n't  the  first  red  cent." 

"  Dreadful !"  shrieked  Miss  Skinlin.  "  What  is  she 
going  to  do  ?" 

"  That  tells  the  whole  story,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  sure 
enough,  what  is  she  going  to  do  ?" 

"  I  suppose  she  '11  live  with  you"  said  Miss  Skinlin, 
suggestively. 

"  You  needn't  suppose  that,  either,"  retorted  the  doc 
tor.  "  It  is  n't  every  person,  Miss  Skinlin,  who  is  agree 
able  enough  to  be  taken  into  one  's  house ;  besides,  she 
has  got  folks  of  her  own." 

"  Oh,— ah  '."—said  Miss  Skinlin ;  "  rich  ?" 

"  Yes,  very,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  unless  some  of  their 
poor  relatives  turn  up,  in  which  case,  they  are  always 
dreadfully  out  of  pocket." 

"  I  un-der-stand,"  said  Miss  Skinlin,  with  a  significant 
nod.  "  Well ;  I  don't  see  anything  left  for  her  to  do, 
but  to  earn  her  living,  like  some  other  folks." 

"  P-r-e-c-i-s-e-1-y,"  said  the  doctor, 

"  Oh — ah," — said  Miss  Skinlin,  who  had  at  last  pos 
sessed  herself  of  "  the  whole  story. 

"  I  forgot  to  ask  you  how  wide  a  hem  I  should  allow  on 
your  black  crape  veil,"  said  Miss  Skinlin,  tying  on  her 
bonnet  to  go.  "  Half  a  yard  width  is  not  considered  too 
much  for  the  deepest  affliction.  Your  daughter,  the  widow, 
will  probably  have  that  width,"  said  the  crafty  dress-maker. 


RUTH       HALL.  119 

"  In  my  opinion,  Ruth  is  in  no  deeper  affliction  than 
we  are,"  said  the  doctor,  growing  very  red  in  the  face ; 
':  although  she  makes  more  fuss  about  it ;  so  you  may 
just  make  the  hem  of  Mis.  Hall's  veil  half-yard  deep  too, 
and  send  the  "bill  into  No.  20,  where  it  will  be  footed 
by  Doctor  Zekiel  Hall,  who  is  not  in  the  habit  of  or 
dering  what  he  can't  pay  for.  That  tells  the  whole 
story." 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Miss  Skiulin,  with  another 
doleful  whine.  "  May  the  Lord  be  your  support,  and  let 
the  light  of  His  countenance  shine  upon  you,  as  our  min 
ister  says." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

OLOWLY  the  funereal  procession  wound  along.  The 
gray -haired  gate-keeper  of  the  cemetery  stepped  aside, 
and  gazed  into  the  first  carriage  as  it  passed  in.  He  saw 
only  a  pale  woman  veiled  in  sable,  and  two  little  wonder 
ing,  rosy  faces  gazing  curiously  out  the  carriage  win 
dow.  All  about,  on  either  side,  were  graves;  some 
freshly  sodded,  others  green  with  many  a  summer's  ver 
dure,  and  all  treasuring  sacred  ashes,  while  the  mourners 
went  about  the  streets. 

"  Dust  to  dust." 

Harry's  coffin  was  lifted  from  the  hearse,  and  laid  upon 
the  green  sward  by  the  side  of  little  Daisy.  Over  him 
waved  leafy  trees,  of  his  own  planting ;  while  through  the 
branches  the  shifting  shadows  came  and  went,  lending  a 
mocking  glow  to  the  dead  man's  face.  Little  Katy  came 
forward,  and  gazed  into  the  yawning  grave  till  her  golden 
curls  fell  like  a  veil  over  her  wondering  eyes.  Ruth 


RUTH       PI  ALL.  121 

leaned  upon  the  arm  of  her  cousin,  a  dry,  flinty,  ossified 
man  of  business  ;  a  man  of  angles — a  man  of  forms — a 
man  with  veins  of  ice,  who  looked  the  Almighty  in  the 
face  complacently,  "  thanking  God  he  was  not  as  other 
men  are ;"  who  gazed  with  stony  eyes  upon  the  open 
grave,  and  the  orphan  babes,  and  the  bowed  form  at  his 
side,  which  swayed  to  and  fro  like  the  young  tree  before 
the  tempest  blast. 

'•  Du=,t  to  dust !" 

Ruth  shrinks  trembling  back,  then  leans  eagerly  for 
ward  ;  now  she  takes  the  last  lingering  look  at  features 
graven  on  her  memory  with  lines  of  fire ;  and  now,  as  the 
cnrth  falls  with  a  hard,  hollow  sound  upon  the  coffin,  a 
lightning  thought  comes  with  stunning  force  to  little 
Katy,  and  she  sobs  out,  "  Oh,  they  are  covering  my  papa 
up ;  I  cairt  ever  see  papa  any  more." 

"  Dust  to  dust !" 

The  sexton  smooths  the  moist  earth  carefully  with  his 
reversed  spade  ;  Ruth's  eyes  follow  his  movements  with 
a  strange  fascination.  Now  the  carriages  roll  away  one 
after  another,  and  the  wooden  man  turns  to  Ruth  and 
says,  "  Come."  She  looks  into  his  stony  face,  then  at  the 
new-made  mound,  utters  a  low,  stifled  cry,  and  staggers 
forth  with  her  crushing  sorrow. 

Oh,  Earth  !  Earth  !  with  thy  mocking  skies  of  blue, 
thy  placid  silver  streams,  thy  myriad,  memory-haunt 
ing  odorous  flowers,  thy  wheels  of  triumph  rolling — roll- 
G 


122  RUTH      HALL. 

ing  on,  over  breaking  hearts  and  prostrate  forms- 
maimed,  tortured,  crushed,  yet  not  destroyed.  Oh, 
mocking  Earth !  snatching  from  our  frenzied  grasp  the 
life-long  coveted  treasure !  Most  treacherous  Earth  !  are 
these  thy  unkept  promises  ? 

Oh,  hadst  thou  no  Gethsemane — no  Calvary— no  guard 
ed  tomb — no  risen  Lord  ! 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

"  A  ND  is  it  because  Biddy  M'Pherson  don't  suit  yer, 
that  ye  'd  be  afthcr  sending  her  away  ?''  said  Ruth's 
nursery  maid. 

"No,  Biddy,"'  replied  Ruth;  "you  have  been  respect 
ful  to  me,  and  land  and  faithful  to  the  children,  but  I  can 
not  afford  to  keep  you  now  since —  "  and  Ruth's  voice 
faltered. 

"  If  that  is  all,  my  leddy,"  said  Biddy,  brightening  up, 
"  then  I  '11  not  be  afther  laving,  sure/' 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ruth,  quite  moved  by  her  devo 
tion  ;  '•  but  you  must  not  work  for  me  without  wages. 
Besides,  Biddy,  I  could  not  even  pay  your  board/' 

"  And  the  tears  not  dry  on  your  cheek ;  and  the  father 
of  him  and  you  with  plenty  of  the  siller.  May  the  divil 
fly  away  wid  'em !  Why,  Nettie  is  but  a  babby  yet, 
and  Masther  used  to  say  you  must  walk  every  day,  to 
keep  off  the  bad  headaches ;  and  it 's  coining  could 


124  RUTH     HALL. 

weather,  and  you  can't  take  Nettie  out,  and  you  can't 
lave  her  with  Katy ;  and  anyhow  it  is  n't  Biddy 
M'Pherson  that  '11  be  going  away  intirely." 

The  allusion  to  Harry's  tender  care  of  Ruth's  health 
opened  the  wound  afresh,  and  she  wept  convulsively. 

"  I  say  it  's  a  shame,"  said  Biddy,  becoming  more  ex 
cited  at  the  sight  of  her  tears ;  "  and  you  can't  do  it,  my 
leddy  ;  you  are  as  white  as  a  sheet  of  paper." 

"  I  must"  said  Ruth,  controlling  herself  with  a  violent 
effort ;  "  say  no  more,  Biddy.  I  don't  know  where  I  am 
going ;  but  wherever  it  may  be  I  shall  always  be  glad  to 
see  you.  Katy  and  Nettie  shall  not  forget  their  kind 
nurse  ;  now,  go  and  pack  your  trunk,"  said  Ruth,  assum 
ing  a  composure  she  was  far  from  feeling.  "  I  thank  you 
for  your  kind  offer,  though  I  cannot  accept  it." 

"  May  the  sowls  of  'em  niver  get  out  of  purgatory  ; 
that 's  Biddy's  last  word  to  'em,"  said  the  impetuous  Irish 
girl ;  "  and  if  the  priest  himself  should  say  that  St.  Peter 
would  n't  open  the  gate  for  your  leddyship,  I  would  n't 
believe  him."  And  unclasping  little  Nettie's  clinging 
arms  from  her  neck,  and  giving  a  hurried  kiss  to  little 
Katy,  Biddy  went  sobbing  through  the  door,  with  her 
check  apron  over  her  broad  Irish  face. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


t*iat  -cominS  11P  tuo  garden-walk,  doctor  *?" 
said  the  old  ladv ;  "  Ruth's  father,  as  true  as  the 
world.  Ah !  I  understand,  we  shall  sec  what  we  shall 
see  ;  mind  you  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  doctor." 

"  Good  morning,  doctor,''  said  Mr.  Ellct. 

';Good  morning,  sir,"  said  the  doctor,  stiffly. 

"  Fine  place  you  have  here,  doctor." 

"  Very,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  a  visit  to  Ruth,"  said  Mr. 
Ellet. 

The  imperturbable  doctor  slightly  nodded  to  his  visit 
or,  as  he  took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

"  She  seems  to  take  her  husband's  death  very  hard." 

"  Does  she  ?"  replied  the  doctor. 

':  I  'm  sorry  to  hear,"  remarked  Mr.  Ellet,  fidgeting  in 
his  chair,  "  that  there  is  nothing  left  for  the  support  of 
the  family." 


126  RUTH       HALL. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  I  suppose  the  world  will  talk  about  us,  if  nothing  is 
done  for  her,"  said  the  non-committal  Mr.  Ellet. 

"  Very  likely,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  Harry  was  your  child,"  said  Mr.  Ellet,  suggestively 

"  Ruth  is  yours,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Ellet ;  "  but  you  are  better 
off  than  I  am,  doctor." 

"I  deny  it — I  deny  it,"  retorted  the  doctor,  fairly 
roused ;  "  you  own  the  house  you  live  in,  and  have  a 
handsome  income,  or  ought  to  have,"  said  he,  sneeringly, 
"  at  the  rate  you  live.  If  you  have  brought  up  your 
daughter  in  extravagance,  so  much  the  worse  for  her ; 
you  and  Ruth  must  settle  that  between  you.  I  wash  my 
hands  of  her.  I  have  no  objection  to  take  Harry's  chil 
dren,  and  try  to  bring  them  up  in  a  sensible  manner ;  but, 
in  that  case,  I  '11  have  none  of  the  mother's  interference. 
Then  her  hands  will  be  free  to  earn  her  own  living,  and 
she 's  none  too  good  for  it,  either.  I  don't  believe  in  your 
doll-baby  women ;  she  's  proud,  you  are  all  proud,  all 
your  family — that  tells  the  whole  story." 

This  was  rather  plain  Saxon,  as  the  increased  redness 
of  Mr.  Ellet's  ears  testified ;  but  pecuniary  considera 
tions  helped  him  to  swallow  the  bitter  pill  without 
making  a  wry  face. 

"  I  don't  suppose  Ruth  could  be  induced  to  part  with 
her  children,"  said  Mr.  Ellet,  meditatively. 


RUTH       HALL.  127 

"  Let  her  try  to  support  them  then,  till  she  gets 
starved  out,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  I  suppose  you  know, 
if  the  mother's  inability  to  maintain  them  is  proved, 
the  law  obliges  each  of  the  grand-parents  to  take  one." 

This  was  a  new  view  of  the  case,  and  one  which  im 
mediately  put  to  flight  any  reluctance  Mr.  Ellet  might 
have  had  to  force  Ruth  to  part  with  her  children ;  and 
remarking  that  he  thought  upon  reflection,  that  the  chil 
dren  would  be  better  off  with  the  doctor,  Mr.  Ellet  took 
his  leave. 

"  I  thought  that  stroke  would  tell,"  said  the  doctor, 
laughing,  as  Mr.  Ellet  closed  the  door. 

"  Yes,  you  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  that  time," 
remarked  the  old  lady  ;  ';  but  those  children  will  be  a 
sight  of  trouble.  They  never  sat  still  five  minutes  at  a 
time,  since  they  were  born  ;  but  I  '11  soon  cure  them  of 
that.  I  'm  determined  Ruth  shan't  have  them,  if  they 
fret  me  to  fiddling-strings  ;  but  what  an  avaricious  old 
man  Mr.  Ellet  is.  We  ought  to  be  thankful  we  have 
more  of  the  gospel  spirit.  But  the  clock  has  struck  nine, 
doctor.  It  is  time  to  have  prayers,  and  go  to  bed." 
6* 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 


day  was  dark  and  gloomy.  Incessant  weeping 
and  fasting  had  brought  on  one  of  Ruth's  most  vio 
lent  attacks  of  nervous  headache.  Ah  !  where  was  the 
hand  which  had  so  lately  charmed  that  pain  away  ? 
where  was  the  form  that,  with  uplifted  finger  and  tiptoe 
tread,  hushed  the  slightest  sound,  excluded  the  torturing 
light,  changed  the  heated  pillow,  and  bathed  the  aching 
temples  ?  Poor  Ruth  !  nature  had  been  tasked  its  ut 
most  with  sad  memories  and  weary  vigils,  and  she  sank 
fainting  to  the  floor. 

Well  might  the  frightened  children  huddle  breathless 
in  the  farther  corner.  The  coffin,  the  shroud,  and  the 
grave,  were  all  too  fresh  in  their  childish  memory. 
"Well  might  the  tearful  prayer  go  up  to  the  only  Friend 
they  knew,  —  "  Please  God,  don't  take  away  our  mamma, 
too." 


II  L"  T  II       II  ALT.  120 

Ruth  heard  it  not ;  well  had  she  never  woke,  but  the 
Litter  cup  was  not  yet  drained. 

';  Good  morning,  Ruth/'  said  her  flit  her,  (a  few  hours 
after.)  frowning  slightly  as  Ruth's  pale  face,  and  the 
swollen  eyes  of  her  children,  met  his  view.  "Sick?" 

;;  One  of  my  Lad  headaches,"  replied  Ruth,  with  a 
quivering  lip. 

"  Well,  that  comes  of  excitement  ;  you  should  n't  get 
excited.  I  never  allow  myself  to  worry  aLout  what 
can't  bo  helped  ;  this  is  the  hand  of  God,  and  you  ought 
to  see  it.  I  came  to  Lring  you  good  news.  The  doctor 
has  very  generously  ofiered  to  take  Loth  your  children 
and  support  them.  It  will  Le  a  great  Lurden  olT  your 
hands  ;  all  he  asks  in  return  is,  that  ho  shall  have  the 
entire  control  of  them,  and  that  you  keep  away.  It  is  a 
great  thing.  Ruth,  and  what  I  did  n't  expect  of  the  doc 
tor,  knowing  his  avaricious  haLits.  Now  you  '11  have 
something  pleasant  to  think  aLout,  getting  their  things 
ready  to  go  ;  the  sooner  you  do  it  the  Letter.  How 
soon,  think  ?" 

<:  I  can  never  part  with  my  children,"  replied  Ruth,  in 
a  voice  which,  though  low,  was  perfectly  clear  and  dis 
tinct. 

"  Perfect  madness,"  said  her  father,  rising  and  pacing 
the  floor ;  "  they  wrill  have  a  good  home,  enough  to  cat, 
drink,  and  wear,  and  Le  taught — " 


130  RUTH       HALL. 

"  To  disrespect  their  mother,"  said  Ruth,  in  the  same 
clear,  low  tone. 

"  Pshaw,"  said  her  father  impatiently  ;  <;  do  you  mean 
to  let  such  a  trifle  as  that  stand  in  the  way  of  their  bread 
and  "butter  ?  I  'm  poor,  Ruth,  or  at  least  I  may  be  to 
morrow,  who  knows  *?  so  you  must  not  depend  on  me  ;  I 
want  you  to  consider  that,  before  you  refuse.  Perhaps 
you  expect  to  support  them  yourself ;  you  can't  do  it, 
that 's  clear,  and  if  you  should  refuse  the  doctor's  offer, 
and  then  die  and  leave  them,  he  would  n't  take  them." 

"  Their  Father  in  Heaven  will,"  said  Ruth.  "  He  says, 
4  Leave  thy  fatherless  children  with  me.'  " 

"  Perversion  of  Scripture,  perversion  of  Scripture," 
said  Mr.  Ellet,  foiled  with  his  own  weapons. 

Ruth  replied  only  with  her  tears,  and  a  kiss  on  each 
little  head,  which  had  nestled  up  to  her  with  an  indis 
tinct  idea  that  she  needed  sympathy. 

"  It  is  of  no  use  getting  up  a  scene,  it  won't  move  me, 
Ruth,"  said  Mr.  Ellet,  irritated  by  the  sight  of  the  weep 
ing  group  before  him,  and  the  faint  twinges  of  his  own 
conscience  ;  "  the  doctor  must  take  the  children,  there  's 
nothing  else  left." 

"  Father,"  said  Ruth,  rising  from  her  couch  and  stand 
ing  before  him  ;  "  my  children  are  all  I  have  left  to  love  ; 
in  pity  do  not  distress  me  by  urging  what  I  can  never 
grant." 

"  As  you  make  your  bed,  so  lie  in  it,"  said  Mr.  Ellet, 


RUTH       HALL.  131 

buttoning  up   his  coat,  and   turning  his  back  upon  his 
daughter. 

It  was  a  sight  to  move  the  stoutest  heart  to  see  Ruth 
that  night,  kneeling  by  the  side  of  those  sleeping  chil 
dren,  with  upturned  eyes,  and  clasped  hands  of  en 
treaty,  and  lips  from  which  no  sound  issued,  though  her 
heart  was  quivering  with  agony  ;  and  yet  a  pitying  Eye 
looked  down  upon  those  orphaned  sleepers,  a  pitying  Ear 
bent  low  to  list  to  the  widow's  voiceless  prayer. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 


"\T7"ELL,  Mis.  Hall,  you  have  got  your  answer.  Ruth 
won't  part  with  the  children,"  said  the  doctor,  as 
tie  refolded  Mr.  Ellet's  letter. 

"  I  believe  you  have  lived  with  me  forty  years,  come 
last  January,  have  n't  you,  doctor  T'  said  his  amiable 
spouse. 

"  What  of  that  ?  I  don't  see  where  that  remark  is 
going  to  fetch  up,  Mis.  Hall,"  said  the  doctor.  "  You 
are  not  as  young  as  you  might  be,  to  be  sure,  but  I  'm  no 
•  boy  myself." 

"  There  you  go  again,  off  the  track.  I  did  n't  make 
any  allusion  to  my  age.  It 's  a  thing  I  never  do.  It 's  a 
thing  I  never  wish  you  to  do.  I  repeat,  that  I  have  lived 
with  you  these  forty  years  ;  well,  did  you  ever  know  me 
back  out  of  anything  I  undertook  ?  Did  you  ever  see 
me  foiled  ?  That  letter  makes  no  difference  with  me ; 
Harry's  children  I  'm  determined  to  have,  sooner  or  later. 


RUTH       HALL.  133 

What  can't  be  had  by  force,  must  be  had  by  stratagem. 
I  propose,  therefore,  a  compromise,  (pro-tern.}  You  and 
Mr.  Ellet  had  better  agree  to  furnish  a  certain  sum  for 
awhile,  for  the  support  of  Ruth  and  her  children,  giving 
her  to  understand  that  it  is  discretionary,  and  may  stop 
at  any  minute.  That  will  conciliate  Ruth,  and  will  look 
better,  too. 

';  The  fact  is,  Miss  Taffety  told  me  yesterday  that  she 
heard  some  hard  talking  about  us  down  in  the  village, 
between  Mrs.  Rice  and  Deacon  Gray  (whose  child  Ruth 
watched  so  many  nights  with,  when  it  had  the  scarlet 
fever).  Yes,  it  will  have  a  better  look,  doctor,  and  we 
can  withdraw  the  allowance  whenever  the  '  nine  days' 
wonder '  is  over.  These  people  have  something  else  to 
do  than  to  keep  track  of  poor  widows." 

"  I  never  supposed  a  useless,  fine  lady,  like  Ruth, 
would  rather  work  to  support  her  children  than  to  give 
them  up  ;  but  I  don't  give  her  any  credit  for  it  now,  for 
I  'm  quite  sure  it 's  all  sheer  obstinacy,  and  only  to  spite 
us,"  continued  the  old  lady. 

'•  Doctor !"  and  the  old  lady  cocked  her  head  on  one 
side,  and  crossed  her  two  forefingers,  "  whenever — you — 
see — a — blue-eyed — soft-voiced —  gentle — woman. —  look 
— out — for — a — hurricane.  I  tell  you  that  placid  Ruth  is 
a  smouldering  volcano. 

"  That  tells  the  whole  story,"  said  the  doctor.  "  And 
speaking  of  volcanoes,  it  won't  be  so  easy  to  make  Mr. 


1 34  RUTH       HALL. 

Ellet  subscribe  anything  for  Ruth's  support;  he  thinks 
more  of  one  cent  than  of  any  child  he  ever  had.  I  am 
expecting  him  every  moment,  Mis.  Hall,  to  talk  over  our 
proposal  about  Ruth.  Perhaps  you  had  better  leave  us 
alone  ;  you  know  you  have  a  kind  of  irritating  way  if  any 
thing  comes  across  you,  and  you  might  upset  the  whole 
business.  As  to  my  paying  anything  towards  Ruth's 
board  unless  he  does  his  full  share,  you  needn't  fear." 

"  Of  course  not ;  well,  I'll  leave  you,"  said  the  old 
lady,  with  a  sly  glance  at  the  china  closet,  "  though  I 
doubt  if  you  understand  managing  him  alone.  Now  I 
could  wind  him  round  my  little  finger  in  five  minutes  if 
I  chose,  but  I  hate  to  stoop  to  it,  I  so  detest  the  whole 
family." 

"  I  '11  shake  hands  with  you  there,"  said  the  doctor ; 
, •"  but  that  puppy  of  a  Hyacinth  is  my  especial  aversion, 
I  though  Ruth  is  bad  enough  in  her  way ;  a  mincing,  con 
ceited,  tip-toeing,  be-curled,  be-perfumed  popinjay  — 
faugh !  Do  you  suppose,  Mis.  Hall,  there  can  be  any- 
'thing  in  a  man  who  wears  fancy  neck-ties,  a  seal  ring  on 
his  little  finger,  and  changes  his  coat  and  vest  a  dozen 
times  a  day  ?  No ;  he 's  a  sensuous  fop,  that  tells  the 
;  whole  story  ;  ought  to  be  picked  up  with  a  pair  of  sugar- 
tongs,  and  laid  carefully  on  a  rose-leaf.  Ineffable 
V  puppy!" 

"  They  made  a  great  fuss  about  his  writings,"  said  the 
old  lady. 


R  T  T  TT       HALL.  135 

"  Who  made  a  fuss  ?  Fudge — there  's  that  piece  of  his 
about  '  The  Saviour'  ;  he  describes  him  as  he  would  a 
Broadway  dandy.  That  fellow  is  all  surface,  I  tell  you  ; 
there  "s  ivj  depth  in  him.  How  should  there  be  1  Is  n't 
he  an  Ellet  }  but  look,  here  comes  his  father." 

"  Good  day,  doctor.  My  time  is  rather  limited  this 
morning,"  said  Ruth's  father  nervously ;  '•  was  it  of 
Ruth  you  wished  to  speak  to  me  •" 

"  Yes,"'  said  the  doctor  ;  '-she  seems  to  feel  so  badly 
about  letting  the  children  go,  that  it  quite  touched  my 
feelings,  and  I  thought  of  allowing  her  something  for 
awhile,  towards  their  support." 

"  Very  generous  of  you,"  said  Mr.  Ellet,  infinitely  re 
lieved  ;  '•  very." 

'•  Yes,"  continued  the  doctor,  ';  I  heard  yesterday  that 
Deacon  Gray  and  Mrs.  Rice,  two  very  influential  church 
members,  were  talking  hard  of  you  and  me  about  this  mat 
ter;  yes,  as  you  remarked,  Mr.  Ellet,  I  am  generous,  and 
I  am  willing  to  give  Ruth  a  small  sum,  for  an  unspecified 
time,  provided  you  will  give  her  the  same  amount." 

';  Me?"  said  Mr.  Eilet ;  ;<  me? — I  am  a  poor  man,  doc 
tor  ;  should  n't  be  surprised  any  day,  if  I  had  to  mort 
gage  the  house  I  live  in  :  you  would  n't  have  me  die  in 
the  almshonse,  would  you  T' 

"  No ;  and  I  suppose  you  would  n't  be  willing   that 


186  RUTH       II  ALL. 

Euth  should  ?"  said  the  doctor,  who  could  take  her  part 
when  it  suited  him  to  carry  a  point. 

"  Money  is  tight,  money  is  tight,"  said  old  Mr.  Ellet, 
frowning  ;  "  when  a  man  marries  his  children,  they  ought 
to  be  considered  off  his  hands.  I  don't  know  why  I 
should  be  called  upon.  Ruth  went  out  of  my  family, 
and  went  into  yours,  and  there  she  was  when  her  trouble 
came.  Money  is  tight,  though,  of  course,  you  don't  feel 
it,  doctor,  living  here  on  your  income  with  your  hands 
folded." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  retorted  the  doctor,  getting  vexed  in  his 
turn ;  "  that  all  sounds  very  well ;  but  the  question  is, 
what  is  my  '  income'  *?  Beside,  when  a  man  has  earned 
his  money  by  riding  six  miles  of  a  cold  night,  to  pull  a 
tooth  for  twenty-five  cents,  he  don't  feel  like  throwing  it 
away  on  other  folks'  children." 

"  Are  not  those  children  as  much  your  grand-children 
as  they  are  mine  ?"  said  Mr.  Ellet,  sharply,  as  he  peered 
over  his  spectacles. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the  doctor,  tak 
ing  an  jEsculapian  view  of  the  case ;  "  should  n't  think 
they  were — blue  eyes — sanguine  temperament,  like  their 
mother's — not  much  Hall  blood  in  'em  I  fancy  ;  more 's 
the  pity." 

"  It  is  no  use  being  uncivil,"  said  Mr.  Ellet,  reddening. 
"  /never  am  uncivil.  I  came  here  because  I  thought  you 


RUTH       HALL.  137 

nad  something  to  say  ;  if  you  have  not,  I'll  go  ;  my  time 

is  precious." 

"  You  have  not  answered  my  question  yet,"  said  the 
doctor  ;  '•  I  asked  you,  if  you  would  give  the  same  that  I 
would  to  Ruth  for  a  time,  only  a  short  time  ?" 

"The  fact  is,  Mr.  Ellet,"  continued  the  doctor,  forced  to 
fall  back  at  last  upon  his  reserved  argument ;  "  we  are 
both  church  members  ;  and  the  churches  to  which  we  be 
long  have  a  way  (which  I  think  is  a  wrong  way,  but  that 's 
neither  here  nor  there)  of  meddling  in  these  little  fam 
ily  matters.  It  would  not  be  very  pleasant  for  you  or  me 
to  be  catechised,  or  disciplined  by  a  church  committee; 
and  it 's  rny  advice  to  you  to  avoid  such  a  disagreeable/ 
alternative  :  they  say  hard  things  about  us.  We  have  a\ 
Christian  reputation  to  sustain,  brother  Ellet,"  and  the  i 
doctor  grew  pictistic  and  pathetic. 

Mr.  Ellet  looked  anxious.     If  there  was  anything  he  ; 
particularly  prided  himself  upon,  it  was  his  reputation  for  j 
devoted  piety.    Here  was  a  desperate  struggle — mammon     / 
pulling  one  way,  the  church  the  other.     The  doctor  saw 
his  advantage,  and  followed  it. 

';  Come,  Mr.  Ellet,  what  will  you  give  1  here  's  a  piece 
of  paper  ;  put  it  down  in  black  and  white,"  said  the  vig 
ilant  doctor. 

"  Never  put  anything  on  paper,  never  put  anything  on 
paper.1'  said  Mr.  Ellet,  in  a  solemn  tone,  with  a  ludic- 


138  RUTH      HALL. 

rously  frightened  air ;  "  parchments,  lawyers,  witnesses, 
and  things,  make  me  nervous." 

"  Ha !  ha !"  chuckled  the  old  lady  from  her  hiding- 
place  in  the  china-closet. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  won't  put  it  on  paper,  tell  me  what 
you  will  give,"  said  the  persistent  doctor. 

"  I  '11  think  about  it,"  said  the  frenzied  Mr.  Ellet,  seiz 
ing  his  hat,  as  if  instant  escape  were  his  only  safety. 

The  doctor  followed  him  into  the  hall. 

"  Did  you  make  him  do  it  ?"  asked  the  old  lady,  in  a 
hoarse  whisper,  as  the  doctor  entered. 

"  Yes  ;  but  it  was  like  drawing  teeth,"  replied  the  doc 
tor.  "  It  is  astonishing  how  avaricious  he  is ;  he  may  not 
stick  to  his  promise  now,  for  he  would  not  put  it  on  pa 
per,  and  there  was  no  witness." 

"  Was  n't  there  though  1"  said  the  old  lady,  chuckling. 
"Trust  me  for  that." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

TN  a  dark,  narrow  street,  in  one  of  those  heterogeneous", 
boarding-houses  abounding  in  the  city,  where  clerks,' 
market-boys,    apprentices,    and    sewing-girls,   bolt   their  \ 
meals  with  railroad  velocity  ;  where  the  maid-of-all-work, 
with  red  arms,  frowzy  head,  and  leathern  lungs,   screams 
in  the  entry  for  any  boarder  who  happens  to  be  inquired 
for  at  the  door ;  where  one  plate  suffices  for  fish,  flesh, 
fowl,  and  dessert ;  where  soiled  table-cloths,  sticky  crock 
ery,    oily   cookery,    and    bad    grammar,    predominate  ;  > 
where  greasy  cards  are  shuffled,  and  bad  cigars  smoked  i 
of  an  evening,  you  might  have  found  Ruth  and  her  chil 
dren. 

';  Jim,  what  do  you  think  of  her  ?"  said  a  low-browed, 
pig-faced,  thick-lipped  fellow,  with  a  flashy  neck-tie  and 
vest,  over  which  several  yards  of  gilt  watch-chain  were 
festooned  ostentatiously  ;  "  pretty ish,  is  n't  she  ?" 

';  Deuced  nice  form,"  said  Jim,  lighting  a  cheap  cigar, 


140  RUTH       HALL. 

and  hitching  his  heels  to  the  mantel,  as  he  took  the  first 
whiff;  "  I  should  n't  mind  kissing  her." 

"  You  .*"  said  Sam,  glancing  in  an  opposite  mirror ;  "  I 
flatter  myself  you  would  stand  a  poor  chance  when  your 
humble  servant  was  round.  If  I  had  not  made  myself 
scarce,  out  of  friendship,  you  would  not  have  made  such 
headway  with  black-eyed  Sue,  the  little  milliner." 

"Pooh,"  said  Jim,  "Susan  Gill  was  delf,  this  little 
widow  is  porcelain  ;  I  say  it  is  a  deuced  pity  she  should 
stay  up  stairs,  crying  her  eyes  out,  the  way  she  does." 

"  Want  to  marry  her,  hey  ?"  said  Sam,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Not  I ;  none  of  your  ready-made  families  for  me ; 
pretty  foot,  has  n't  she  ?  I  always  put  on  my  coat  in  the 
front  entry,  about  the  time  she  goes  up  stairs,  to  get  a 
peep  at  it.  It  is  a  confounded  pretty  foot,  Sam,  bless 
me  if  it  is  n't ;  I  should  like  to  drive  the  owner  of  it 
out  to  the  race-course,  some  pleasant  afternoon.  I  must 
say,  Sam,  I  like  widows.  I  don't  know  any  occupation 
more  interesting  than  helping  to  dry  up  their  tears ;  and 
then  the  little  dears  are  so  grateful  for  any  little  atten 
tion.  Wonder  if  my  swallow-tailed  coat  won't  be  done 
to-day  ?  that  rascally  tailor  ought  to  be  snipped  with  his 
own  shears." 

"Well,  now,  I  wonder  when  you  gentlemen  intend 
taking  yourselves  off,  and  quitting  the  drawing-room," 
said  the  loud-voiced  landlady,  perching  a  cap  over  her 


RUTH       HAIL.  141 

disheveled  tresses ;  "  this  parlor  is  the  only  place  I 
have  to  dress  in  ;  can't  you  do  your  talking  and  smoking 
in  voi^  wn  rooms  '?  Come  row — here  's  a  lot  of  news 
papers,  just  take  them  and  be  off,  and  give  a  woman  a 
chance  to  make  herself  beautiful." 

"Beautiful!"  exclaimed  Sam,  "the  old  dragon  !  she 
would  'IK:  •>  a  good  scarecrow  for  a  corn-field,  or  a  fig 
ure-head  .Li'  a  piratical  cruiser;  beautiful!"  and  the 
speaker  smoothed  a  wrinkle  out  of  his  flashy  yellow 
vest ;  "  it  is  my  opinion  that  the  uglier  a  woman  is,  the 
more  beautiful  she  thinks  herself;  also,  that  any  of  the 
sex  may  be  bought  with  a  yard  of  ribbon,  or  a  breastpin." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Jim,  "  you  need  n't  have  lived  to 
this  time  of  life  to  have  made  that  discovery  ;  and  speak 
ing  of  that,  reminds  me  that  the  little  widow  is  as  poor 
as  Job's  turkey.  My  washerwoman,  confound  her  for 
ironing  off  my  shirt-buttons,  says  that  she  wears  her 
clothes  rough-dry,  because  she  can't  afford  to  pay  for  both 
washing  and  ironing." 

'•She  does?"  replied  Sam;  "she'll  get  tired  of  that 
after  awhile.  I  shall  request  '  the  dragon,'  to-morrow,  to 
let  me  sit  next  her  at  the  table.  I  '11  begin  by  helping  the 
children,  offering  to  cut  up  their  victuals,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing — that  will  please  the  mother,  you  know  ;  hey  ? 
But,  by  Jove  !  it's  three  o'clock,  and  I  engaged  to  drive 
a  gen'lemen  down  to  the  steamboat  landing ;  now  some 
other  hackney  coach  will  get  the  job.  Confound  it !" 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


nOUNTING  houses,  like  all  other  spots  beyond  the 
pale  of  female  jurisdiction,  are  comfortless  looking 
places.  The  counting-room  of  Mr.  Tom  Develin  was 
no  exception  to  the  above  rule ;  though  we  will  do 
him  the  justice  to  give  in  our  affidavit,  that  the  ink-stand, 
for  seven  consecutive  years,  had  stood  precisely  in  the 
same  spot,  bounded  on  the  north  by  a  box  of  letter 
stamps,  on  the  south  by  a  package  of  brown  business  en 
velopes,  on  the  east  by  a  pen  wiper,  made  originally  in  the 
form  of  a  butterfly,  but  which  frequent  ink  dabs  had 
transmuted  into  a  speckled  caterpillar,  on  the  west  by 
half  sheets  of  blank  paper,  rescued  economically  from 
business  letters,  to  save  too  prodigal  consumption  of 
foolscap. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  Mr.  Tom  Develin  was  a 
bachelor ;  perpendicular  as  a  ram-rod,  moving  over  terra 
firma  as  if  fearful  his  joints  would  unhinge,  or  his  spinal 
column  slip  into  his  boots ;  carrying  his  arms  with  mili 
tary  precision ;  supporting  his  ears  with  a  collar,  never 


RUTH      HALL.  143 

known  by  'the  oldest  inhabitant'  to  be  limpsey;  and 
stepping  circumspectly  in  boots  of  mirror-like  brightness, 
never  defiled  with  the  mud  of  the  world. 

Perched  on  his  apple-sized  head,  over  plastered  wind- 
proof  locks,  was  the  shiniest  of  hats,  its  wearer  turning 
neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left ;  and,  although  possessed 
of  a  looking-glass,  laboring  under  the  hallucination  that 
he,  of  all  masculine  moderns,  was  most  dangerous  to  the 
female  heart. 

Mr.  Develin's  book  store  was  on  the  west  side  of 
Literary  Row.  His  windows  were  adorned  with  pla 
cards  of  new  theological  publications  of  the  blue-school 
order,  and  engravings  of  departed  saints,  who  with  their 
last  breath  had,  with  mock  humility,  requested  brother 
somebody  to  write  their  obituaries.  There  was,  also,  to 
be  seen  there  an  occasional  oil  painting  "  for  sale,"  se 
lected  by  Mr.  Develin  himself,  with  a  peculiar  eye  to  the 
greenness  of  the  trees,  the  blucness  of  the  sky,  and  the 
moral  "  tone  "  of  the  picture. 

Mr.  Develin  congratulated  himself  on  his  extensive  ac 
quaintance  with  clergymen,  professors  of  colleges,  stu 
dents,  scholars,  and  the  literati  generally.  By  dint  of 
patient  listening  to  their  desultory  conversations,  he  had 
picked  up  threads  of  information  on  literary  subjects, 
which  he  carefully  wound  around  his  memory,  to  be 
woven  into  his  own  tete-a-tetes.  where  such  information 
would  "  tell ;"  always,  of  course,  omitting  quotation 


144  RUTH       HALL. 

marks,  to  which  some  writers,  as  well  as  conversationists, 
have  a  constitutional  aversion.  It  is  not  surprising,  there 
fore,  that  his  tete-a-tetes  should  be  on  the  mosaic  order  ; 
the  listener's  interest  being  heightened  by  the  fact,  that 
he  had  not,  wnen  in  a  state  of  pinafore,  cultivated  Lindley 
Murray  too  assiduously. 

Mr.  Develin  had  fostered  his  bump  of  caution  with  a 
truly  praiseworthy  care.  He  meddled  very  gingerly 
with  new  publications ;  in  fact,  transacted  business  on  the 
old  fogy,  stage-coach,  rub-a-dub  principle ;  standing  back 
with  distended  eyes,  and  suppressed  breath,  in  holy  hor 
ror  of  the  whistle,  whiz-rush  and  steam  of  modern  pub 
lishing  houses.  "  A  penny  saved,  is  a  penny  gained," 
said  this  eminent  financier  and  stationer,  as  he  used  half 
a  wafer  to  seal  his  business  letters. 

"  Any  letters  this  morning  ?"  said  Mr.  Develin  to 
his  clerk,  as  he  deposited  his  umbrella  in  the  north 
west  corner  of  his  counting-room,  and  re-smoothed  his 
unctuous,  unruffled  locks;  "any  letters?"  and  taking  a 
package  from  the  clerk's  hand,  he  circumspectly  lowered 
himself  between  his  coat-tails  into  an  arm-chair,  and 
leisurely  proceeded  to  their  inspection. 

"  MR.  DEVELIN  : — 

"  Sir, — I  take  the  liberty,  knowing  you  to  be  one  of 
the  referees  about  our  son's  estate,  which  was  left  in  a 


R  U  T  H       II  A  L  L.  145 

dreadiul  confusion,  owing  probably  to  his  wife's  thrift- 
lessness,  to  request  of  you  a  small  favor.  When  our 
son  died,  he  left  a  great  many  clothes,  vests,  coats,  pants, 
&c.,  which  his  wife,  no  doubt,  urged  his  buying,  and 
which,  of  course,  can  be  of  no  use  to  her  now,  as  she 
never  had  any  boys,  which  we  always  regretted.  I  take 
my  pen  in  hand  to  request  you  to  send  the  clothes  to  me, 
as  they  will  save  my  tailor's  bill ;  please  send,  also,  a  cir 
cular  broadcloth  cloak,  laced  with  velvet,  his  cane,  hats, 
and  our  son's  Bible,  which  Ruth,  of  course,  never  looks 
into — we  wish  to  use  it  at  family  prayers.  Please  send 
them  all  at  your  earliest  convenience.  Hoping  you  are 
in  good  health,  I  am  yours  to  command, 

"  ZEKIEL  HALL." 

Mr.  Develin  re-folded  the  letter,  crossed  his  legs  and 
mused.  "The  law  allows  tho  widow  the  husband's  wear 
ing  apparel,  but  what  can  Ruth  do  with  it  ?  (as  the  doc 
tor  says,  she  has  no  boys,)  and  with  her  peculiar  notions, 
it  is  not  probable  she  would  sell  the  clothes.  The  law  is 
on  her  side,  undoubtedly,  but  luckily  she  knows  no  more 
about  law  than  a  baby  ;  she  is  poor,  the  doctor  is  a  man 
of  property  ;  Ruth's  husband  was  my  friend  to  be  sure, 
but  a  man  must  look  out  for  No.  1  in  this  world,  and 
consider  a  little  what  would  be  for  his  own  interest. 
The  doctor  may  leave  me  a  little  slice  of  property  if  I 
keep  on  the  right  side  of  him,  who  knows  ?  The  clothes 
must  be  sent/'  7 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

N'T   a  pretty  place,"   said  little   Katy,  as  she 

*  looked  out  the  window  upon  a  row  of  brick  walls, 
dingy  sheds,  and  discolored  chimneys;  "'tis n't  a  pretty 
place,  mother,  I  want  to  go  home." 

"  Home !"  Ruth  started !  the  word  struck  a  chord 
which  vibrated — oh  how  painfully. 

"Why  don't  we  go  home,  mother?"  continued  Katy; 
"  won't  papa  ever,  ever,  come  and  take  us  away  ?  there 
is  something  in  my  throat  which  makes  me  want  to  cry 
all  the  time,  mother,"  and  Katy  leaned  her  curly  head 
wearily  on  her  mother's  shoulder. 

Ruth  took  the  child  on  her  lap,  and  averting  her  eyes, 
said  with  a  forced  smile  : 

"  Little  sister  don't  cry,  Katy." 

"  Because  she  is  a  little  baby,  and  don't  know  any. 
thing,"  replied  Katy ;  "  she  used  to  stay  with  Biddy,  but 
papa  used  to  take  me  to  walk,  and  toss  me  up  to  the  wall 


RCTH       HALL.  147 

when  he  came  home,  and  make  rabbits  with  his  fingers 
on  the  wall  after  tea,  and  take  me  on  his  knee  and  tell 
me  about  little  Red  Riding  Hood,  and — oh,  I  want  papa, 
I  want  papa,"  said  the  child,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  tears. 

Ruth's  tears  fell  like  rain  on  Katy's  little  up-turned 
face.  Oh,  how  could  she,  who  so  much  needed  comfort, 
speak  words  of  cheer  ?  How  could  her  tear-dimmed  eyes 
and  palsied  hand,  'mid  the  gloom  of  so  dark  a  night,  sec, 
and  arrest  a  sunbeam  1 

"  Katy,  dear,  kiss  me  ;  you  loved  papa — it  grieved  you 
to  see  him  sick  and  suffering.  Papa  has  gone  to  heaven, 
where  there  is  no  more  sickness,  no  more  pain.  Papa  is 
happy  now,  Katy." 

"  Happy  ?  without  me^  and  you,  and  Nettie"  said 
Katy,  with  a  grieved  lip  ? 

Oh,  far-reaching — questioning  childhood,  who  is  suffi 
cient  for  thee  ?  How  can  lips,  which  so  stammeringly 
repeat,  *  thy  will  be  done,'  teach  thee  the  lesson  perfect  1 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


morning,  Mrs.  Hall,"  said  Mr.  Develin, 
handing  Ruth  the  doctor's  letter,  and  seating  him- 
himself  at  what  he  considered  a  safe  distance  from  a 
female ;  "  I  received  that  letter  from  the  doctor  this 
morning,  and  I  think  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  attend 
to  his  request  as  soon  as  possible." 

Ruth  perused  the  letter,  and  handed  it  back  with  a 
trembling  hand,  saying,  "  'tis  true  the  clothes  are  of  no 
use,  but  it  is  a  great  comfort  to  me,  Mr.  Develin,  to  keep 
everything  that  once  belonged  to  Harry."  Then  pausing 
a  moment,  she  asked,  "  have  they  a  legal  right  to  demand 
those  things,  Mr.  Develin  1" 

"  I  am  not  very  well  versed  in  law,"  replied  Mr, 
Develin,  dodging  the  unexpected  question ;  "  but  you 
know  the  doctor  does  n't  bear  thwarting,  and  your  chil 
dren — iisfact — "  Here  Mr.  Develin  twisted  his  thumbs 
and  seemed  rather  at  a  loss.  "  Well,  the  fact  is,  Mrs. 


H  U  T  H        H  ALL.  149 

Hall,  in  the  present  state  of  your  affairs,  you  cannot 
afford  to  refuse." 

"  True,"  said  Ruth,  mournfully,  "  true." 

Harry's  clothes  were  collected  from  the  drawers,  one 
by  one,  and  laid  upon  the  sofa.  Now  a  little  pencilled 
memorandum  fluttered  from  the  pocket ;  now  a  hand 
kerchief  dropped  upon  the  floor,  slightly  odorous  of 
cologne,  or  cigars ;  neck-ties  there  were,  shaped  by  his 
full  round  throat,  with  the  creases  still  in  the  silken  folds, 
and  there  was  a  crimson  smoking  cap,  Ruth's  gift — the 
gilt  tassel  slightly  tarnished  where  it  had  touched  the 
moist  dark  locks ;  then  his  dressing-gown,  which  Ruth 
herself  had  often  playfully  thrown  on,  while  combing  her 
hair — each  had  its  little  history,  each  its  tender  home 
associations,  daguerreotyping,  on  tortured  memory,  sunny 
pictures  of  the  past. 

"  Oh,  I  cannot — I  cannot,"  said  Ruth,  as  her  eye  fell 
upon  Harry's  wedding- vest ;  "  oh,  Mr.  Develin,  I  cannot." 

Mru  Develin  coughed,  hemmed,  walked  to  the  window, 
drew  off  his  gloves,  and  drew  them  on,  and  finally  said, 
anxious  to  terminate  the  interview,  "  I  can  fold  them  up 
quicker  than  you,  Mrs.  Hall." 

"  If  you  please,"  replied  Ruth,  sinking  into  a  chair ; 
"  this  you  will  leave  me,  Mr.  Develin,"  pointing  to  the 
white  satin  vest. 

"Y-e-s,"  said  Mr.  Develin,  with  an  attempt  to  be  fa 
cetious.  "  The  old  doctor  can't  use  that,  I  suppose." 


150  RUTH       HALL. 

The  trunk  was  packed,  the  key  turned  in  the  lock,  and 
the  porter  in  waiting,  preceded  by  Mr.  Develin,  shoulder 
ed  his  burden,  and  followed  him  down  stairs,  and  out  into 
the  street. 

And  there  sat  Ruth,  with  the  tears  dropping  one  after 
another  upon  the  wedding  vest,  over  which  her  fingers 
strayed  caressingly.  Oh,  where  was  the  heart  which  had 
throbbed  so  tumultuously  beneath  it,  on  that  happy  bridal 
eve?  With  what  a  dirge-like  echo  fell  upon  her  tor 
tured  ear  those  bridal  words, — "  till  death  do  us  part." 


CHAPTER  XL. 


Herbert,  are  you  aware  that  this  is  the  sixth 
spoonful  of  sugar  you  have  put  in  that  cup  of  tea  ? 
and  what  a  forlorn  face  !  I  'd  as  lief  look  at  a  tombstone. 
Now  look  at  me.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  fit  as  that 
boot  1  Is  not  my  hair  as  smooth  and  as  glossy  as  if  I 
expected  to  dine  with  some  other  gentleman  than  my 
husband?  Is  not  this  jacket  a  miracle  of  shapeliness? 
Look  what  a  foil  you  are  to  all  this  loveliness  ;  lack-lustre 
eyes  —  mouth  drawn  down  at  the  corners  :  you  are  a  dose 
to  contemplate." 

"  Mary,"  said  her  husband,  without  noticing  her  rail 
lery  ;  "  do  you  remember  Mrs.  Hall  ?" 

"Mrs.  Hall,"  replied  Mary  ;"  oh,  Ruth  Ellet?  yes; 
I  used  to  go  to  school  with  her.  She  has  lost  her  husband, 
they  say." 

"  Yes,  and  a  fine  noble  fellow  he  was  too,  and  very 
proud  of  his  wife.  I  remember  he  used  to  come  into  the 


152  RUTH       HALL. 

store,  and  say,  with  one  of  his  pleasant  smiles,  *  Herbert, 
I  wonder  if  you  have  anything  here  handsome  enough  for 
my  wife  to  wear.'  He  bought  all  her  clothes  himself, 
even  to  her  gloves  and  boots,  and  was  as  tender  and  care 
ful  of  her  as  if  she  were  an  infant.  Well,  to-day  she 
came  into  my  store,  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  leading 
her  two  little  girls  by  the  hand,  and  asked  to  see  me. 
And  what  do  you  think  she  wanted  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Mary,  carelessly  ;  "  a 
yard  of  black  crape,  I  suppose." 

"  She  wanted  to  know,"  said  Mr.  Herbert,  "  if  I  could 
employ  her  to  make  up  and  trim  those  lace  collars,  caps, 
and  under  sleeves  we  sell  at  the  store.  I  tell  you,  Mary, 
I  could  scarce  keep  the  tears  out  of  my  eyes,  she  looked 
so  sad.  And  then  those  poor  little  children,  Mary !  I 
thought  of  you,  and  how  terrible  it  would  be  if  you  and 
our  little  Sue  and  Charley  were  left  so  destitute." 

"  Destitute  ?"  replied  Mary ;  "  why  her  father  is  a  man 
of  property  ;  her  brother  is  in  prosperous  circumstances ; 
and  her  cousin  lives  in  one  of  the  most  fashionable  squares 
in  the  city." 

"  Yes,  wife,  I  know  it ;  and  that  makes  it  all  the  harder 
for  Mrs.  Hall  to  get  employment ;  because,  people  know 
ing  this,  take  it  for  granted  that  her  relatives  help  her,  or 
ought  to,  and  prefer  to  give  employment  to  others  whom 
they  imagine  need  it  more.  This  is  natural,  and  perhaps  I 
should  have  thought  so  too,  had  it  been  anybody  but 


u  r  T  ir     ii  A  i.  L  .  153 

Harry  Hairs  wife ;  but  all  I  could  think  of  was,  what 
Harry  (poor  fellow  !)  would  have  said,  had  he  ever 
thought  his  little  pet  of  a  wife  would  have  come  begging 
to  me  for  employment." 

"  What  did  you  tell  her  T  said  Mary. 

"  Why — you  know  the  kind  of  work  she  wished,  is 
done  by  forty  hands,  in  a  room  directly  over  the  store, 
under  the  superintendence  of  Betsy  Norris ;  of  course, 
they  would  all  prefer  doing  the  work  at  home,  to  com 
ing  down  there  to  do  it ;  but  that  is  against  our  rules 
I  told  her  this,  and  also  that  if  I  made  an.  exception  in 
her  favor,  the  forewoman  would  know  it,  because  she  had 
to  prepare  the  work,  and  that  would  cause  dissatisfaction 
among  my  hands.  "What  do  you  think  she  said?  she 
offered  to  come  and  sit  down  among  those  girls,  and  work 
with  them.  My  God,  Mary  !  Harry  Hall's  wife  ! 

"  Of  course  that  was  out  of  the  question,  wife,  for  she 
could  not  bring  her  two  children  there,  and  she  had  no 
one  to  leave  them  with,  and  so  she  went  away  ;  and  1 
looked  after  her,  and  those  little  bits  of  children,  till  they 
were  out  of  sight,  trying  to  devise  some  way  to  get  her 
employment.  Cannot  you  think  of  anything,  Mary  ? 
Are  there  no  ladies  you  know,  who  would  give  her  nice 
needlework  T' 

"  I  don't  know  anybody  but  Mrs.  Slade,"'  replied 
Mary,  "  who  puts  out  work  of  any  consequence,  and  she 
told  me  the  other  day  that  she  never  employed  any  of 


1.54  ROTH       HALL. 

those  persons  who  '  had  seen  better  days ;'  that  some 
how  she  couldn't  drive  as  good  a  bargain  with  them  as 
she  could  with  a  common  person,  who  was  ignorant  of 
the  value  of  their  labor." 

"  God  help  poor  Mrs.  Hall,  then,"  exclaimed  Harry, 
"  if  all  the  sex  are  as  heartless !  We  must  contrive 
some  way  to  help  her,  Mary — help  her  to  employment,  I 
mean,  for  I  know  her  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  she 
would  accept  of  assistance  in  no  other  way." 


CHAPTER   XL!. 

u  TS  this  the  house  ?"  said  one  of  two  ladies,  pausing 
before  Ruth's  lodgings. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  replied  the  other  lady ;  "  they  said  it 

was  No.  50 street,  but  it  can't  be,  either ;  Ruth  Hall 

could  n't  live  in  such  a  place  as  this.  Just  look  at  that 
red-faced  Irish  girl  leaning  out  the  front  window  on  her 
elbows,  and  see  those  vulgar  red  bar-room  curtains;  I 
declare,  Mary,  if  Ruth  Hall  has  got  down  hill  so  far  as 
this,  /can't  keep  up  her  acquaintance  ;  just  see  how  they 
stare  at  us  here  !  if  you  choose  to  call  you  may — faugh  ! 
just  smell  that  odor  of  cabbage  issuing  from  the  first 
entry.  Come,  come,  Mary,  take  your  hand  oft'  the 
knocker;  I  wouldn't  be  seen  in  that  vulgar  house  for  a 
kingdom." 

"  It  seems  heartless,  though,"  said  the  other  lady,  blush 
ing  slightly,  as  she  gathered  up  her  six  flounces  in  her 
delicately  gloved-hand;  "do  you  remember  the  after- 


1 50  R  U  T  H       II  A  L  L  . 

noon  we  rode  out  to  their  pretty  country-seat,  and  had 
that  delicious  supper  of  strawberries  and  cream,  under 
those  old  trees  ?  and  do  you  remember  how  handsome 
and  picturesque  her  husband  looked  in  that  broad  Pan  - 
ama  hat,  raking  up  the  hay  when  the  thunder-shower 
came  up  ?  and  how  happy  Euth  looked,  and  her  children  ? 
'Tis  a  dreadful  change  for  her,  I  declare  ;  if  it  were  me,  I 
believe  I  should  cut  my  throat." 

"  That  is  probably  just  what  her  relatives  would  like 
to  have  her  do,"  replied  Mary,  laughing ;  "  they  are  as 
much  mortified  at  her  being  here,  as  you  and  I  are  to  be 
seen  in  such  a  quarter  of  the  city." 

"  Why  don't  they  provide  for  her,  then,"  said  the  other 
lady,  "  at  least  till  she  can  turn  round  ?  that  youngest 
child  is  only  a  baby  yet." 

"  Oh,  that's  their  affair,"  answered  Mary,  "  don't  bother 
about  it.  Hyacinth  has  just  married  a  rich,  fashionable 
wife,  and  of  course  he  cannot  lose  caste  by  associating 
with  Kuth  now;  you  cannot  blame  him." 

"  Well,  that  don't  prevent  him  from  helping  her,  does 

it?" 

"  Good  gracious,  Gertrude,  do  stop  !  if  there  's  any 
thing  I  hate,  it  is  an  argument.  It  is  clearly  none  of  our 
business  to  take  her  up,  if  her  own  people  don't  do  it. 
Come,  go  to  La  Temps'  with  me,  and  get  an  ice. 
What  a  love  of  a  collar  you  have  on  ;  it  is  handsomer 
than  mine,  which  I  gave  fifty  dollars  for,  but  what  is  fifty 


RUTH       HALL.  157 

dollars,  when  one  fancies  a  thing  ?  If  I  didn't  make  my 
husband's  money  fly,  his  second  wife  would ;  so  I  will 
save  her  ladyship  that  trouble  ;"  and  with  an  arch  toss  of 
her  plumed  head,  the  speaker  and  her  companion  entered 
the  famous  saloon  of  La  Temps,  where  might  be  seen 
any  sunny  day,  between  the  hours  of  twelve  and  three, 
the  disgusting  spectacle  of  scores  of  ladies  devouring,  ad 
infinitum,  brandy-drops,  Roman  punch,  Charlotte  Russc, 
pies,  cakes,  and  ices  ;  and  sipping  "  parfait  amour,"  till 
their  flushed  cheeks  and  emancipated  tongues  prepared 
them  to  listen  and  reply  to  any  amount  of  questionable 
nonsense  from  their  attendant  roue  cavaliers. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


OME  folks'  pride  runs  in  queer  streaks,"  said 
Betty,  as  she  turned  a  beefsteak  on  the  gridiron ; 
"  if  I  lived  in  such  a  grand  house  as  this,  and  had  so 
many  fine  clothes,  I  would  n't  let  my  poor  cousin  stand 
every  Monday  in  my  kitchen,  bending  over  the  wash-tub, 
and  rubbing  out  her  clothes  and  her  children's,  with  my 
servants,  till  the  blood  started  from  her  knuckles." 

"  Do  you  know  what  dis  chil'  would  do,  if  she  were 
Missis  Euth  Hall  ?"  asked  Gatty.  "  Well,  she  'd  jess  go 
right  up  on  dat  shed  fronting  de  street,  wid  'em,  and 
hang  'em  right  out  straight  before  all  de  grand  neighbors, 
and  shame  Missus  Millet;  dat's  what  dis  chil'  would 
do." 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Ruth,  she  knows  too  much  for  that,"  re 
plied  Betty ;  "  she  shoulders  that  great  big  basket  of 
damp  clothes  and  climbs  up  one,  two,  three,  four  flights 
of  stairs  to  hang  them  to  dry  in  the  garret.  Did  you  see 


RUTH       H  A  L  L .  1  59 

her  sit  down  on  the  stairs  last  Monday,  looking  so  pale 
about  the  mouth,  and  holding  on  to  her  side,  as  if  she 
never  would  move  again  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Gatty,  "  and  here  now,  jess  look  at  de 
fust  peaches  of  de  season,  sent  in  for  dessert ;  de  Lor'  / 
he  only  knows  what  dey  cost,  but  niggers  inus  n't  see 
noffing,  not  dey,  if  dey  wants  to  keep  dere  place.     But 
white  folks  is  stony-hearted,  Betty." 

"  Turn  that  steak  over,"  said  Betty ;  "  now  get  the 
pepper ;  work  and  talk  too,  that 's  my  motto.  Yes,  Gat 
ty,  I  remember  when  Mrs.  Ruth's  husband  used  to  ride 
up  to  the  door  of  a  fine  morning,  and  toss  me  a  large  bou 
quet  for  Mrs.  Millet,  which  Mrs.  Ruth  had  tied  up  for 
her,  or  hand  me  a  box  of  big  strawberries,  or  a  basket 
of  plums,  or  pears,  and  how  all  our  folks  here  would 
go  out  there  and  stay  as  long  as  they  liked,  and  use  the 
horses,  and  pick  the  fruit,  and  the  like  of  that." 

"  Whar  's  her  brudder,  Massa  Hyacinth  1  Wonder  if 
he  knows  how  tings  is  gwyin  on '?"  asked  Gatty. 

"  He  knows  fast  enough,  only  he  dortt  know,"  replied 
Betty,  with  a  sly  wink.  "  I  was  setting  the  table  the 
other  day,  when  Mrs.  Millet  read  a  letter  from  him  to 
her  husband.  It  seems  he  's  got  a  fine  place  in  the  coun 
try,  where  he  lives  with  his  new  bride.  Poor  thing,  I 
hope  he  won't  break  her  heart,  as  he  did  his  first  wife's. 
Well,  he  told  how  beautiful  his  place  was,  and  how  much 
money  he  had  laid  out  on  his  garden,  and  hot-house,  and 


160  RUTH     HALL. 

things,  and  invited  Mrs.  Millet  to  come  and  see  him; 
and  then  he  said,  l  he  'sposed  Mrs.  Ruth  was  getting  on ; 
he  did  n't  know  anything  about  her." 

"  Know  about  de  debbel !"  exclaimed  Gatty,  throwing 
down  the  pepper  castor;  "wonder  whose  fault  dat  is, 
Betty  ?  'Spose  all  dese  folks  of  ours,  up  stairs,  will  go 
to  de  bressed  place  ?  When  I  heard  Massa  Millet 
have  prayers  dis  morning,  I  jess  wanted  to  ask  him  dat. 
You  'member  what  our  minister,  Mr.  Snowball,  said  las' 
Sunday,  'bout  de  parabola  of  Dives  and  Lazarus,  hey  T 

"  Parable,"  said  Betty  contemptuously  •  "  Gatty,  you 
are  as  ignorant  as  a  hippopotamus.  Come,  see  that 
steak  now,  done  to  a  crisp ;  won't  you  catch  it  when  you 
take  it  into  breakfast.  It  is  lucky  I  can  cook  and  talk 
too." 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 


"  OOMETIIING  for  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  maid-of-all- 
work  to  Ruth,  omitting  the  ceremony  of  a  premoni 
tory  knock,  as  she  opened  the  door.  "  A  bunch  of  flow 
ers  !  handsome  enough  for  Queen  Victory ;  and  a  basket 
of  apples  all  done  up  in  green  leaves.  It  takes  widders 
to  get  presents,"  said  the  girl,  stowing  away  her  tongue 
in  her  left  cheek,  as  she  partially  closed  the  door. 

"  Oh,  how  pretty  !"  exclaimed  little  Nettie,  to  whom 
those  flowers  were  as  fair  as  Eve's  first  view  of  Paradise. 
"  Give  me  one  posy,  mamma,  only  one  ;"  and  the  little 
chubby  hands  were  outstretched  for  a  tempting  rose 
bud. 

"  But,  Nettie,  dear,  they  are  not  for  me,"  said  Ruth ; 
"there  must  be  some  mistake." 

"  Not  a  bit,  ma'am,"  said  the  girl,  thrusting  her  head 
into  the  half-open  door ;  "  the  boy  said  they  were  '  for 
Mrs.  Ruth  Hall,'  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  my  face  ;  and 


162  RUTH       HALL. 

that 's  plain  enough,  for  I  reckon  I  should  have  got  mar 
ried  long  ago,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  my  big  nose.  He 
was  a  country  boy  like,  with  a  ploughman's  frock  on,  and 
was  as  spotted  in  the  face  as  a  tiger-lily," 

"  Oh !  I  know,"  replied  Ruth,  with  a  ray  of  her  old 
sunshiny  smile  flitting  over  her  face ;  "  it  was  Johnny 
Gait ;  he  comes  into  market  every  day  with  vegetables. 
Don't  you  remember  him,  Katy?  He  used  to  drive 
our  old  Brindle  to  pasture,  and  milk  her  every  night. 
You  know  dear  papa  gave  him  a  suit  of  clothes  on  the 
Fourth  of  July,  and  a  new  hat,  and  leave  to  go  to 
Plymouth  to  see  his  mother?  Don't  you  remember, 
Katy,  he  used  to  catch  butterflies  for  you  in  the  meadow, 
and  pick  you  nosegays  of  buttercups,  and  let  you  ride 
the  pony  to  water,  and  show  you  where  the  little  min- 
nies  lived  in  the  brook  ?  Have  you  forgotten  the  white 
chicken  he  brought  you  in  his  hat,  which  cried  '  peep — 
peep,'  and  the  cunning  little  speckled  eggs  he  found  for 
you  in  the  woods,  and  the  bright  scarlet  partridge  berries 
he  strung  for  a  necklace  for  your  throat,  and  the  glossy 
green-oak-leaf  wreath  he  made  for  your  hat  ?" 

"  Tell  more — tell  more,"  said  Katy,  with  eyes  brim 
ming  with  joy ;  "  smile  more,  mamma." 

Aye,  "Smile  more,  mamma."  Earth  has  its  bright 
spots ;  there  must  have  been  sunshine  to  make  a  shadow. 
All  hearts  are  not  calloused  by  selfishness  ;  from  the  lips 
of  the  honest  little  donor  goeth  up  eack  night  and  morn- 


RUTH       HALL.  1 63 

ing  a  prayer,  sincere  and  earnest,  for  "  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless."  The  noisome,  flaunting  weeds  of  earth  ( have 
not  wholly  choked  the  modest  flower  of  gratitude. 
"  Smile  more,  mamma  !" 

How  cheap  a  thing  is  happiness !  Golconda's  mines 
were  dross  to  that  simple  bunch  of  flowers !  They  lit 
the  widow's  gloomy  room  with  a  celestial  brightness. 
Upon  the  dingy  carpet  Ruth  placed  the  little  vase,  and 
dimpled  limbs  hovered  about  their  brilliant  petals ;  pois 
ing  themselves  daintily  as  the  epicurean  butterfly  who 
circles,  in  dreamy  delight,  over  the  rose's  heart,  longing, 
yet  delaying  to  sip  its  sweets. 

A  simple  bunch  of  flowers,  yet  oh,  the  tale  they  told 
with  their  fragrant  breath  !  "  Smile,  mamma  !"  for  those 
gleeful  children's  sake ;  send  back  to  the  source  that 
starting  tear,  ere  like  a  lowering  cloud  it  o'ercasts  the 
sunshine  of  those  beaming  faces. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


^  ^ear»"  sa^  Mrs.  Millet,  as  the  servant  withdrew 
with  the  dessert,  "  Walter  has  an  invitation  to  the 
Hon.  David  Greene's  to-night." 

No  response  from  Mr.  Millet,  "the  wooden  man,"  one 
of  whose  pleasant  peculiarities  it  was  never  to  answer  a 
question  till  the  next  day  after  it  was  addressed  to  him. 

Mrs.  Millet,  quite  broken  in  to  this  little  conjugal  ec 
centricity,  proceeded  ;  "  It  will  be  a  good  thing  for  John, 
Mr.  Millet;  I  am  anxious  that  all  his  acquaintances 
should  be  of  the  right  sort.  Hyacinth  has  often  told  me 
how  much  it  made  or  marred  a  boy's  fortune,  the  set  he 
associated  with.  Herbert  Greene  has  the  air  of  a  thor 
ough-bred  man  already.  You  see  now,  Mr.  Millet,  the 
importance  of  Hyacinth's  advice  to  us  about  five  years 
ago,  to  move  into  a  more  fashionable  neighborhood  ;  to 
be  sure  rents  are  rather  high  here,  but  I  am  very  sure 
young  Snyder  would  never  have  thought  of  offering  him 
self  to  Leila  had  not  we  lived  at  the  court-end  of  the 
town.  Hyacinth  considers  it  a  great  catch  in  point  of 


RUTH       HALL.  165 

family,  and  I  have  no  doubt  Snyder  is  a  nice  fellow.  I 
wish  before  you  go,  Mr.  Millet,  you  •would  leave  the 
money  to  buy  Leila  a  velvet  jacket ;  it  will  not  cost  more 
than  forty  dollars  (lace,  trimmings,  and  all) ;  it  will  be 
very  becoming  to  Leila.  What,  going  1  oh,  I  forgot  to 
tell  you,  that  Ruth's  father  was  here  this  morning,  bother 
ing  me  just  as  I  was  dressing  my  hair  for  dinner.  It 
seems  that  he  is  getting  tired  of  furnishing  the  allowance 
he  promised  to  give  Ruth,  and  says  that  it  is  our  turn 
now  to  do  something.  He  is  a  great  deal  better  off  than 
we  are,  and  so  I  told  him ;  and  also,  that  we  were  obliged 
to  live  in  a  certain  style  for  the  dear  children's  sake ; 
beside,  are  we  not  doing  something  for  her  1  I  allow 
Ruth  to  do  her  washing  in  our  kitchen  every  week,  pro 
vided  she  finds  her  own  soap.  Stop  a  minute,  Mr.  Mil 
let  ;  do  leave  the  forty  dollars  for  Leila's  jacket  before  you 
go.  Cicchi,  the  artist,  wants  her  to  sit  for  a  Madonna, — 
quite  a  pretty  tribute  to  Leila's  beauty  ;  he  only  charges 
three  hundred  dollars  ;  his  study  is  No.  1,  Olive  street." 

"  S-t-u-d-i-o,"  said  Mr.  Millet,  (slowly  and  oracularly, 
who,  being  on  several  school  committees,  thought  it  his 
duty  to  make  an  extra  exertion,  when  the  king's  English 
was  misapplied  ;)  "  s-t-u-d-i-o,  Mrs.  Millet ;"  and  button 
ing  the  eighth  button  of  his  overcoat,  he  moved  slowly  out 
the  front  door,  and  down  the  street  to  his  counting-room, 
getting  over  the  ground  with  about  as  much  flexibility 
and  grace  of  motion  as  the  wooden  horses  on  the  stage. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


here,  Katy,"  said  Ruth,  "  do  you  think  you 
could  go  alone  to  your  grandfather  Ellet's  for  once  ? 
My  board  bill  is  due  to-day,  and  my  head  is  so  giddy 
with  this  pain,  that  I  can  hardly  lift  it  from  the  pillow. 
Don't  you  think  you  can  go  without  me,  dear1?  Mrs. 
Skiddy  is  very  particular  about  being  paid  the  moment 
she  sends  in  her  bill." 

"  I  '11  try,  mamma,"  replied  little  Katy,  unwilling  to 
disoblige  her  mother. 

"  Then  bring  your  bonnet,  dear,  and  let  me  tie  it  ;  be 
very,  very  careful  crossing  the  streets,  and  don't  loiter  on 
the  way.  I  have  been  hoping  every  moment  to  be  bet 
ter,  but  I  cannot  go." 

"  Never  mind,  mother,"  said  Katy,  struggling  bravely 
with  her  reluctance,  as  she  kissed  her  mother's  cheek,  and 
smiled  a  good-bye  ;  but  when  she  gained  the  crowded 
street,  the  smile  faded  away  from  the  little  face,  her  steps 


RUTH       HALL.  167 

were  slow,  and  her  eyes  downcast;  for  Katy,  child  as 
she  was,  knew  that  her  grandfather  was  never  glad  to  see 
them  now,  and  his  strange,  cold  tone  when  he  spoke  to 
her,  always  made  her  shiver  ;  so  little  Katy  threaded  her 
way  along,  with  a  troubled,  anxious,  care-worn  look, 
never  glancing  in  at  the  shopkeepers'  tempting  windows, 
and  quite  forgetting  Johnny  Gait's  pretty  bunch  of  flow 
ers,  till  she  stood  trembling  with  her  hand  on  the  latch 
of  her  grandfather's  counting-room  door. 

"  That  you!"  said  her  grandfather  gruffly,  from  under 
his  bent  brows ;  "  come  for  money  again  ?  Do  you  think 
your  grandfather  is  made  of  money  1  people  have  to 
earn  it,  did  you  know  that  ?  I  worked  hard  to  earn 
mine.  Have  you  done  any  thing  to  earn  this  *?" 

"No,  Sir,"  said  Katy,  with  a  culprit  look,  twisting 
the  corner  of  her  apron,  and  struggling  to  keep  from 
crying. 

"  Why  don't  your  mother  go  to  work  and  earn  some 
thing  r  asked  Mr.  Ellet. 

"  She  cannot  get  any  work  to  do,"  replied  Katy  ;  "  she 
tries  very  hard,  grandpa." 

"  Well,  tell  her  to  keep  on  trying,  and  you  must  grow 
up  quick,  and  earn  something  too  ;  money  don't  grow  on 
trees,  or  bushes,  did  you  know  that  ?  What 's  the 
reason  your  mother  did  n't  come  after  it  herself,  hey  ?" 

"  She  is  sick,"  said  Katy. 

"Seems  to  me  she's  always  sick.     Well,  there's  a 


168 


R  f  T  H       HALL. 


dollar,"  said  her  grandfather,  looking  at  the  bill  affection 
ately,  as  he  parted  with  it ;  "  if  you  keep  on  coming  here 
at  this  rate,  you  will  get  all  my  money  away.  Do  you 
think  it  is  right  to  come  and  get  all  my  money  away, 
hey  ?  Remember  now,  you  and  your  mother  must  earn 
some,  somehow,  d  'ye  hear  ?" 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  Katy  meekly,  as  she  closed  the  door. 

There  was  a  great  noise  and  bustle  in  the  street,  and 
Katy  was  jostled  hither  and  thither  by  the  hurrying  foot 
passengers;  but  she  did  not  heed  it,  she  was  so  busy 
thinking  of  what  her  grandfather  had  said,  and  wondering 
if  she  could  not  sell  matches,  or  shavings,  or  sweep  the 
crossings,  or  earn  some  pennies  someho  w,  that  she  need 
never  go  to  her  grandfather  again.  Just  then  a  little  girl 
her  own  age,  came  skipping  and  smiling  along,  holding 
her  father's  hand.  Katy  looked  at  her  and  thought  of 
her  father,  and  then  she  began  to  cry. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  dear  T  said  a  gentleman, 
lifting  a  handful  of  Katy's  shining  curls  from  her  face ; 
"  why  do  you  cry,  my  dear  ?" 

"  I  want  my  papa,"  sobbed  Katy. 

"  Where  is  he,  dear  ?  tell  me,  and  I  will  take  you  to 
him,  shall  I  V ' 

"  If  you  please,  Sir,"  said  Katy,  innocently,  "  he  has 
gone  to  heaven." 

"  God  help  you,"  said  the  gentleman,  with  moistened 
eyes,  "  where  had  you  been  when  I  met  you  1" 


RUTH       HALL.  169 

u  Please,  Sir — I — I — I  had  rather  not  tell,"  replied 
Katy,  \vith  a  crimson  blush. 

';  Very  odd,  this,''  muttered  the  gentleman  ;  "  what  is 
your  name,  dear  ?" 

"  Katy,  Sir." 

"  Katy  what  ]"  asked  the  gentleman.  "  Katy -did,  I 
think  !  for  your  voice  is  as  sweet  as  a  "bird's." 

"  Katy  Hall,  Sir." 

44  Hall  ?  Hall  ?"  repeated  the  gentleman,  thoughtfully  ; 
'  was  your  lather's  name  Harry  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Katy. 

"  Was  he  tall  and  handsome,  with  black  hair  and 
whiskers  f 

"  Oh,  so  handsome,"  replied  Katy,  with  sparkling 
eyes. 

';  Did  he  live  at  a  place  called  '  The  Glen,'  just  out 
of  the  city  ?" 

';  Yes,"  said  Katy. 

"  My  child,  my  poor  child,"  said  the  gentleman,  taking 
her  up  in  his  arms  and  pushing  back  her  hair  from  her 
face;  "  yes,  here  is  papa's  brow,  and  his  clear,  blue  eyes, 
Katy.  I  used  to  know  your  dear  papa." 

"  Yes  ]"  said  Katy,  with  a  bright,  glad  smile. 

"  I  used  to  go  to  his  counting-house  to  talk  to  him  on 
business,  and  I  learned  to  love  him  very  much,  too.  1 
never  saw  your  mamma,  though  I  often  heard  him  speak 
of  her.  In  a  few  hours,  dear,  I  am  going  to  sail  off  on 

8 


170  RUTH       HALL. 

the  great  ocean,  else  I  would  go  home  with  you  and  see 
your  mamma.  Where  do  you  live,  Katy  T 

"  In court,"  said  tlie  child.  The  gentleman  col 
ored  and  started,  then  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
drawing  out  something  that  looked  like  paper,  slipped  it 
into  little  Katy's  bag,  saying,  with  delicate  tact,  "Tell 
your  mamma,  my  dear,  that  is  something  I  owed  your 
dear  papa ;  mind  you  carry  it  home  safely ;  now  give 
me  a  good-bye  kiss,  and  may  God  forever  bless  you,  my 
darling." 

Little  Katy  stood  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand  till 
the  gentleman  was  out  of  sight ;  it  was  so  nice  to  see 
somebody  who  "  loved  papa ;"  and  then  she  wondered 
why  her  grandfather  never  spoke  so  to  her  about  him  ; 
and  then  she  wished  the  kind  gentleman  were  her  grand 
papa  ;  and  then  she  wondered  what  it  was  he  had  put  in 
the  bag  for  mamma ;  and  then  she  recollected  that  her 
mamma  told  her  "  not  to  loiter ;"  and  then  she  quickened 
her  tardy  little  feet. 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 

T7"ATY  had  been  gone  now  a  long  while.  Ruth  began 
^  to  grow  anxious.  She  lifted  her  head  from  the  pil 
low,  took  oft'  the  wet  bandage  from  her  achiug  forehead, 
and  taking  little  Nettie  upon  her  lap,  sat  down  at  the 
small  window  to  watch  for  Katy.  The  prospect  was  not 
one  to  call  up  cheerful  fancies.  Opposite  was  one  of 
those  large  brick  tenements,  let  out  by  rapacious  land 
lords,  a  room  at  a  time  at  griping  rents,  to  poor  emi 
grants,  and  others,  who  were  barely  able  to  prolong 
their  lease  of  life  from  day  to  day.  At  one  window  sat  a 
tailor,  with  his  legs  crossed,  and  a  torn  straw  hat  perched 
awry  upon  his  head,  cutting  and  making  coarse  garments 
for  the  small  clothing-store  in  the  vicinity,  whose  Jewish 
owner  reaped  all  the  profits.  At  another,  a  pale-faced 
woman,  with  a  handkerchief  bound  round  her  aching  face, 
bent  over  a  steaming  wash-tub,  while  a  little  girl  of  ten, 
staggering  under  the  weight  of  a  basket  of  damp  clothes. 


172  RUTH      HALL. 

was  stringing  them  on  lines  across  the  room  to  dry.  At 
the  next  window  sat  a  decrepit  old  woman,  feebly  try 
ing  to  soothe  in  her  palsied  arms  the  wailings  of  a  poor 
sick  child.  And  there,  too,  sat  a  young  girl,  from  dawn 
till  dark,  scarcely  lifting  that  pallid  face  and  weary 
eyes — stitching  and  thinking,  thinking  and  stitching.  God 
help  her ! 

Still,  tier  above  tier  the  windows  rose,  full  of  pale, 
anxious,  care-worn  faces — never  a  laugh,  never  a  song — 
but  instead,  ribald  curses,  and  the  cries  of  neglected,  half- 
fed  children.  From  window  to  window,  outside,  were 
strung  on  lines  articles  of  clothing,  pails,  baskets,  pil 
lows,  feather-beds,  and  torn  coverlets ;  while  up  and 
down  the  door-steps,  in  and  out,  passed  ever  a  ragged 
procession  of  bare-footed  women  and  children,  to  the 
small  grocery  opposite,  for  "  a  pint  of  milk,"  a  "  loaf  of 

/  bread,"  a  few  onions,  or  potatoes,  a  cabbage,  some  her- 

/()  rings,  a  sixpence  worth  of  poor  tea,  a   pound  of  musty 

^     flour,  a  few  candles,  or  a  peck  of  coal — for  all  of  which, 

I  the  poor  creatures  paid  twice  as  much  as  if  they  had  the 

I  means  to  buy  by  the  quantity. 

The  only  window  which  Ruth  did  not  shudder  to  look 
at,  was  the  upper  one  of  all,  inhabited  by  a  large  but 
thrifty  German  family,  whose  love  of  flowers  had  taken 
root  even  in  that  sterile  soil,  and  whose  little  pot  of 
thriving  foreign  shrubs,  outside  the  window  sill,  showed 
with  what  tenacity  the  heart  will  cling  to  early  associations. 


R  U  T  fl       HALL  173 

Farther  on,  at  one  block's  remove,  ^  «.<L  -  more  preten 
tious-looking  house,  the  blinds  of  which  were  almost 
always  closed,  save  when  the  colored  servants  threw  them 
open  once  a  day,  to  give  the  rooms  an  airing.  Then 
Ruth  saw  damask  chairs,  satin  curtains,  pictures,  vases, 
books,  and  pianos ;  it  was  odd  that  people  who  could 
afford  such  things  should  live  in  such  a  neighborhood. 
Ruth  looked  and  wondered.  Throngs  of  visitors  went 
there — carriages  rolled  up  to  the  door,  and  rolled  away  ; 
gray-haired  men,  business  men,  substantial-looking  fam 
ily  men,  and  foppish-looking  young  men;  while  half- 
grown  boys  loitered  about  the  premises,  looking  myste 
riously  into  the  door  when  it  opened,  or  into  the  window 
when  a  curtain  was  raised,  or  a  blind  flew  apart. 

Now  and  then  a  woman    appeared  at   the  windows. 
Sometimes  the  face  was  young  and  fair,  sometimes  it  was 
wan  and  haggard ;  but,  oh  God  !  never  without  the  stain 
that  the  bitterest  tear  may  fail  to  wash  away,  save  in  the 
eyes  of  Him  whose  voice  of  mercy  whispered,  "  Go,  and 
sin  no  more." 

Ruth's  tears  fell  fast.  She  knew  now  how  it  could  be, 
when  every  door  of  hope  seemed  shut,  by  those  who  make 
long  prayers  and  wrap  themselves  in  morality  as  with  a 
garment,  and  cry  with  closed  purses  and  averted  faces, 
"Be  ye  warmed,  and  filled."  She  knew  now  how, 
when  the  heart,  craving  sympathy,  craving  companion 
ship,  doubting  both  earth  and  heaven,  may  wreck  its  all 


174  RUTH       HALL. 

in  one  despairing  moment  on  that  dark  sea,  if  it  lose 
sight  of  Bethlehem's  guiding-star.  And  then,  she 
thought,  "  if  he  who  saveth  a  soul  from  death  shall  hide  a 
multitude  of  sins,"  oh !  where,  in  the  great  reckoning-day, 
shall  he  be  found  who,  'mid  the  gloom  of  so  dark  a 
night,  pilots  such  struggling  bark  on  wrecking  rocks  ? 

"  Dear  child,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  home,"  said  Euth, 
as  Katy  opened  the  door ;  "  I  began  to  fear  something  had 
happened  to  you.  Did  you  see  your  grandfather  ?" 

"  Oh,  mother !"  exclaimed  Katy,  "  please  never  send 
me  to  my  grandpa  again ;  he  said  we  '  should  get  away 
all  the  money  he  had,'  and  he  looked  so  dreadful  when  he 
said  it,  that  it  made  my  knees  tremble.  Is  it  stealing, 
mamma,  for  us  to  take  grandpa's  money  away  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Euth,  looking  a  hue  more  pallid,  if  pos 
sible,  than  before.  "  No,  no,  Katy,  don't  cry  ;  you  shall 
never  go  there  again  for  money.  But,  where  is  your 
bag  1  Why  !  what 's  this,  Katy.  Grandpa  has  made  a 
mistake.  You  must  run  right  back  as  quick  as  ever  you 
can  with  this  money,  or  I  'm  afraid  he  will  be  angry." 

"  Oh,  grandpa  did  n't  give  me  that,"  said  Katy ;  "  a 
gentleman  gave  me  that." 

"  A  gentleman  ?"  said  Ruth.  "  Why  it  is  money,  Katy. 
How  came  you  to  take  money  from  a  gentleman  1  Who 
was  he  ?" 

"  Money !"  exclaimed  Katy.     "  Money !"  clapping  her 


RUTH       HALL.  175 

hands.  "Oh!  I  'm  so  glad.  He  did  n't  say  it  was  money  ; 
he  said  it  was  something  he  owed  papa;"  and  little 
Katy  picked  up  a  card  from  the  floor,  on  which  was 
pencilled,  "  For  the  children  of  Harry  Hall,  from  their 
father's  friend." 

"  Hush,"     whispered    Katy    to   Nettie,    "  mamma   is 
praying." 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

"  "UTELL,  I  never !"  said  Biddy,  bursting  into  Ruth's 
room  in  her  usual  thunder-clap  way,  and  seating 
herself  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  as  she  polished  her  face 
with  the  skirt  of  her  dress.  "  As  sure  as  my  name  is 
Biddy,  I  don't  know  whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry.  Well, 
I  've  been  expecting  it.  Folks  that  have  ears  can't  help 
hearing  when  folks  quarrel." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?"  said  Ruth.  "  Who 
has  quarreled  ?  It  is  nothing  that  concerns  me." 

"  Don't  it  though  ?"  replied  Biddy.  "  I  'm  thinking  it 
will  concern  ye  to  pack  up  bag  and  baggage,  and  be  off 
out  of  the  house ;  for  that 's  what  we  are  all  coming  to, 
and  all  for  Mrs.  Skiddy.  You  see  it 's  just  here,  ma'am. 
Masther  has  been  threatnin'  for  a  long  time  to  go  to 
Californy,  where  the  gould  is  as  plenty  as  blackberries. 
Well,  misthress  tould  him,  if  ever  he  said  the  like  o'  that 
again,  he  'd  rue  it ;  and  you  know,  ma'am,  it 's  she  that 


R  U  T  II       II  A  L  L.  177 

has  a  temper.  Well,  yesterday  I  heard  high  words 
again ;  and,  sure  enough,  after  dinner  to-day,  she  went  off, 
talcing  Sanimy  and  Johnny,  and  laving  the  bit  nursing 
baby  on  Iiiy  hands,  and  the  boarders  and  all.  And  it 's 
Biddy  McFlanigan  who  '11  be  off,  ma'am,  and  not  be 
made  a  pack-horse  of,  to  tend  that  teething  child,  and  be 
here,  and  there,  and  everywhere  in  a  minute.  And  so 
i  come  to  bid  you  good-bye." 

"  But,  Biddy—" 

':  Don't  be  afther  keeping  me,  ma'am  ;  Pat  has  should 
hcred  me  trunk,  and  ye  see  I  can't  be  staying  when 
things  is  as  they  is." 


c 


The  incessant  cries  of  Mrs.  Skiddy's  bereaved  baby 
soon  bore  ample  testimony  to  the  truth  of  Biddy's  narra 
tion,  appealing  to  Ruth's  motherly  sympathies  so  ve 
hemently,  that  she  left  her  room  and  went  down  to  offer 
her  assistance. 

There  sat  Mr.  John  Skiddy,  the  forlorn  widower,  the 
ambitious  California!!,  in  the  middle  of  the  kitchen,  in  his 
absconded  wife's  rocking-chair,  trotting  a  seven  months' 
baby  on  the  sharp  apex  of  his  knee,  alternately  singing, 
whistling,  and  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead, 
while  the  little  Skiddy  threw  up  its  arms  in  the  most 
frantic  way,  and  held  its  breath  with  rage,  at  the  awk 
ward  attempts  of  its  dry  nurse  to  restore  peace  to  the 

family. 

8- 


178  RUTH     HALL. 

"  Let  me  sweeten  a  little  cream  and  water  and  feed 
that  child  for  you,  Mr.  Skiddy,"  said  Ruth.  "  I  think  he 
Is  hungry." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Hall,"  said  Skiddy,  with  a 
man's  determined  aversion  to  owning  '  checkmated.'  "  I 
am  getting  along  famously  with  the  little  darling.  "  Papa 
will  feed  him,  so  he  will"  said  Skiddy  ;  and,  turning  the 
maddened  baby  flat  on  his  back,  he  poured  down  a  whole 
tea-spoonful  of  the  liquid  at  once ;  the  natural  conse 
quence  of  which  was  a  milky  jet  d  ^eau  on  his  face,  neck 
cloth,  and  vest,  from  the  irritated  baby,  who  resented  the 
insult  with  all  his  mother's  spirit. 

Ruth  adroitly  looked  out  the  window,  while  Mr.  Skid 
dy  wiped  his  face  and  sopped  his  neckcloth,  after  which 
she  busied  herself  in  picking  up  the  ladles,  spoons,  forks, 
dredging-boxes,  mortars,  pestles,  and  other  culinary  im 
plements,  with  which  the  floor  was  strewn,  in  the  vain  at 
tempt  to  propitiate  the  distracted  infant. 

"  I  think  I  will  spare  the  little  dear  to  you  a  few  min 
utes,"  said  Skiddy,  with  a  ghastly  attempt  at  a  smile, 
"  while  I  run  over  to  the  bakery  to  get  a  loaf  for  tea. 
Mrs.  Skiddy  has  probably  been  unexpectedly  detained, 
and  Biddy  is  so  afraid  of  her  labor  in  her  absence,  that 
she  has  taken  French  leave.  I  shall  be  back  soon,"  said 
Skiddy,  turning  away  in  disgust  from  the  looking-glass, 
as  he  caught  sight  of  his  limpsey  dicky  and  collapsed 
shirt-bosom. 


U  U  T  11       II  A  L  L.  179 

Ruth  took  the  poor  worried  baby  tenderly,  laid  it  on 
its  stomach  across  her  lap,  then  loosening  its  frock 
strings,  began  rubbing  its  little  fat  shoulders  with  her 
velvet  palm.  There  was  a  maternal  magnetism  in  that 
touch;  baby  knew  it !  he  stopped  crying  and  winked  his 
swollen  eyelids  with  the  most  luxurious  satisfaction,  as 
much  as  to  say,  there,  now,  that's  something  like  ! 

Gently  Ruth  drew  first  one,  then  the  other,  of  the 
magnetized  baby's  chubby  arms  from  its  frock  sleeves, 
substituting  a  comfortable  loose  night-dress  for  the 
tight  and  heated  frock  ;  then  she  carefully  drew  off  its 
shoe,  admiring  the  while  the  beauty  of  the  little  blue 
veined,  dimpled  foot,  while  Katy,  hush  as  any  mouse, 
looked  on  delightedly  from  her  little  cricket  on  the 
hearth,  and  Nettie,  less  philosophical,  was  more  than  half 
inclined  to  cry  at  what  she  considered  an  infringement  of 
her  rights. 

Mr.  Skiddy's  reflections  as  he  walked  to  the  bakery 
were  of  a  motley  character.  Upon  the  whole,  he  inclined 
to  the  opinion  that  it  was  "  not  good  for  man  to  bo 
alone,"  especially  with  a  nursing  baby.  The  premedi 
tated  and  unmixed  malice  of  Mrs.  Skiddy  in  leaving  the 
baby,  instead  of  Sammy  or  Johnny,  was  beyond  question. 
Still,  he  could  not  believe  that  her  desire  fur  revenge 
would  outweigh  all  her  maternal  feelings.  She  would  re 
turn  by-and-byc  ;  but  where  could  she  have  gone  ]  Peo 
ple  cannot  travel  with  an  empty  purse  ;  Jjut,  perhaps 


180  R  U  T  II       HALL. 

even  now,  at  some  tantalizing  point  of  contiguity,  she 
was  laughing  at  the  success  of  her  nefarious  scheme  ;  and 
Mr.  Skiddy's  face  reddened  at  the  thought,  and  his  arms 
instinctively  took  an  a-kimbo  attitude. 

But  then,  perhaps,  she  never  meant  to  come  back. 
What  was  he  to  do  with  that  baby'?  A  wet-nurse 
would  cost  him  six  dollars  a  week;  and,  as  to  bring 
ing  up  little  Tommy  by  hand,  city  milk  would  soon 
finish  him.  And,  to  do  Mr.  Skiddy  justice,  though  no 
Socrates,  he  was  a  good  father  to  his  children. 

And  now  it  was  nearly  dark.  Was  he  doomed  to 
sit  up  all  night,  tired  as  he  was,  with  Tommy  in  one 
hand,  and  a  spoon  and  pewter  porringer  in  the  other  ? 
Or,  worse  still,  walk  the  floor  in  white  array,  till  his 
joints,  candle,  and  patience  gave  out  ?  Then,  there  were 
the  boarders  to  be  seen  to !  He  never  realized  before 
how  many  irons  Mrs.  Skiddy  had  daily  in  the  fire. 
There  was  Mr.  Thompson,  and  Mr.  Johnson,  on  the 
first  floor,  (and  his  face  grew  hot  as  he  thought  of  it,)  had 
seen  him  in  the  kitchen  looking  so  Miss-Nancy-like,  as  he 
superintended  pots,  kettles,  and  stews.  Stews?  there 
was  not  a  dry  thread  on  him  that  minute,  although  a  cold 
north  wind  was  blowing.  Never  mind,  he  was  not  such 
a  fool  as  to  tell  of  his  little  troubles ;  so  he  entered  the 
bakery  and  bought  an  extra  pie,  and  a  loaf  of  plum-cake, 

for  tea,  to  hoodwink  the  boarders  into  the  belief  that  Mrs. 
i 


RUTH       HALL.  181 

Skiddyrs  presence  was  not  at  all  necessary  to  a  well-pro 
vided  table. 

Tea  wrent  off  quite  swimmingly,  with  Mr.  John  Skiddy 
at  the  urn.  The  baby,  thanks  to  Ruth's  maternal  man 
agement,  lay  sweetly  sleeping  in  his  little  wicker  cradle, 
dreaming  of  a  distant  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey, 
and  looking  as  if  he  was  destined  to  a  protracted  nap  ; 
although  it  was  very  perceptible  that  Mr.  Skiddy  looked 
anxious  when  a  door  was  shut  hard,  or  a  knife  or  fork 
dropped  on  the  table ;  and  he  had  several  times  been 
seen  to  close  his  teeth  tightly  over  his  lip,  when  a  heavy 
cart  rumbled  mercilessly  past. 

Tea  being  over,  the  boarders  dispersed  their  various 
ways  ;  Ruth  notifying  Mr.  Skiddy  of  her  willingness  to 
take  the  child  whenever  it  became  unmanageable.  Then 
Mr.  Skiddy,  very  gingerly,  and  with  a  cat-like  tread,  put 
away  the  tea-things,  muttering  an  imprecation  at  the  lid 
of  the  tea-pot,  as  he  went,  for  falling  off.  Then,  drawing  the 
evening  paper  from  his  pocket,  and  unfurling  it,  (with 
one  eye  on  the  cradle,)  he  put  up  his  weary  legs  and  com 
menced  reading  the  news. 

Hark  !  a  muffled  noise  from  the  cradle  !  Mr.  Skiddy 
started,  and  applied  his  toe  vigorously  to  the  rocker — it 
was  no  use.  He  whistled— it  didn't  suit.  He  sang — it 
was  a  decided  failure.  Little  Skiddy  had  caught  sight  of 
the  pretty  bright  candle,  and  it  was  his  present  intention 
to  scream  till  he  was  taken  up  to  investigate  it. 


182  E  U  T  II      HALL. 

Miserable  Skiddy !  He  recollected,  now,  alas  1  too 
late,  that  Mrs.  Skiddy  always  carefully  screened  the  light 
from  Tommy's  eyes  while  sleeping.  He  began  to  be 
conscious  of  a  growing  respect  for  Mrs.  Skiddy,  and  a 
growing  aversion  to  lier  baby.  Yes ;  in  that  moment  of 
vexation,  with  that  unread  evening  paper  before  him,  he 
actually  called  it  her  baby. 

How  the  victimized  man  worried  through  the  long 
evening  and  night — how  he  tried  to  propitiate  the  little 
tempest  with  the  castor,  the  salt-cellar,  its  mother's  work- 
box,  and  last,  but  not  least,  a  silver  cup  he  had  received 
for  his  valor  from  the  Atlantic  Fire  Company- — how  the 
baby,  all-of-a-twist,  like  Dickens'  young  hero  kept  asking 
for  "  more  " — how  he  laid  it  on  its  back,  and  laid  it  on 
its  side,  and  laid  it  on  its  stomach,  and  propped  it  up  on 
one  end  in  a  house  made  of  pillows,  and  placed  the  can 
dle  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  in  the  vain  hope  that  that 
luminary  might  be  graciously  deemed  by  the  infant 
tyrant  a  substitute  for  his  individual  exertions — and  how, 
regardless  of  all  these  philanthropic  efforts,  little  Skiddy 
stretched  out  his  arms  imploringly,  and  rooted  suggest 
ively  at  his  father's  breast,  in  a  way  to  move  a  heart  of 
stone — and  how  Mr.  Skiddy  said  several  words  not  to  be 
found  in  the  catechism — and  how  the  daylight  found  him 
as  pale  as  a  potato  sprout  in  a  cellar,  with  all  sorts  of 
diagonal  lines  tattoed  over  his  face  by  enraged  little  finger 


R  U  T  II       HALL.  183 

nails — and  how  the  little  horn,  that  for  years  had  curled 
up  so  gracefully  toward  his  nose,  was  missing  from  the 
corner  of  his  moustache — are  they  not  all  written  in  the 
ambitious  Californian's  repentant  memory  ? 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 


'  TTOW  sweetly  they  sleep,''  said  Ruth,  shading  the 
small  lamp  with  her  hand,  and  gazing  at  Katy  and 
Nettie  ;  "  God  grant  their  names  be  not  written,  widow  ;" 
and  smoothing  back  the  damp  tresses  from  the  brow  of 
each  little  sleeper,  she  sat  down  to  the  table,  and  drawing 
from  it  a  piece  of  fine  work,  commenced  sewing.  "  Only 
fifty-cents  for  all  this  ruffling  and  hemming,"  said  Ruth, 
as  she  picked  up  the  wick  of  her  dim  lamp  ;  "  only  fifty 
cents  !  and  I  have  labored  diligently  too,  every  spare 
moment,  for  a  fortnight  ;  this  will  never  do,"  and  she 
glanced  at  the  little  bed  ;  "  they  must  be  clothed,  and 
fed,  and  educated.  Educated  ?"  an  idea  struck  Ruth  ; 
"  why  could  not  she  teach  school  ?  But  who  would  be 
responsible  for  the  rent  of  her  room  ?  There  was  fuel  to 
be  furnished,  and  benches  ;  what  capital  had  she  to  start 
with  ?  There  was  Mrs.  Millet,  to  be  sure,  and  her  father, 
who,  though  they  were  always;  saying,  "  get  something  to 


R  U  T  II       H  A  L  L  .  185 

do,"  would  never  assist  her  when  she  tried  to  do  any 
thing  ;  how  easy  for  them  to  help  her  to  obtain  a  few 
scholars,  or  be  responsible  for  her  rent,  till  she  could 
make  a  little  headway.  Ruth  resolved,  at  least,  to  men 
tion  her  project  to  Mrs.  Millet,  who  could  then,  if  she 
felt  inclined,  have  an  opportunity  to  offer  her  assistance 
in  this  way. 

The  following  Monday,  when  her  washing  was  finished, 
Ruth  wiped  the  suds  from  her  parboiled  fingers  on  the 
kitchen  roller,  and  ascending  the  stairs,  knocked  at  the 
door  of  her  cousin's  chamber.  Mrs.  Millet  was  just 
putting  the  finishing  touches  to  the  sleeves  of  a  rich  silk 
dress  of  Leila's,  which  the  mantau-maker  had  just  re 
turned. 

"  How  d'  ye  do,  Ruth,"  said  she,  in  a  tone  which  im 
plied — what  on  earth  do  you  want  now  ? 

"  Very  well,  I  thank  you,"  said  Ruth,  with  that  sud 
den  sinking  at  the  heart,  which  even  the  intonation  of  a 
voice  may  sometimes  give ;  "  I  can  only  stay  a  few  min 
utes  ;  I  stopped  to  ask  you,  if  you  thought  there  was  any 
probability  of  success,  should  I  attempt  to  get  a  private 
school  ?" 

"There  is  nothing  to  prevent  your  trying,"  replied 
Mrs.  Millet,  carelessly ;  "  other  widows  have  supported 
themselves ;  there  was  Mrs.  Snow."  Ruth  sighed,  for 
she  knew  that  Mrs.  Snow's  relatives  had  given  her  letters 
of  introduction  to  influential  families,  and  helped  her  in 


180  RUTH       HALL. 

various  ways  till  she  could  get  her  head  above  water. 
"Yes,"  continued  Mrs.  Millet,  laying  her  daughter's  silk 
dress  on  the  bed,  and  stepping  back  a  pace  or  two,  with 
her  head  on  one  side,  to  mark  the  effect  of  the  satin  bow 
she  had  been  arranging ;  "  yes — other  widows  support 
themselves,  though,  I  am  sure,  I  don't  know  how  they  do 
it — I  suppose  there  must  be  a  way — Leila !  is  that  bow 
right  ?  seems  to  me  the  dress  needs  a  yard  or  two  more 
lace  ;  ten  dollars  will  not  make  much  difference ;  it  will 
be  such  an  improvement." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Leila,  "  it  will  be  a  very  great 
improvement ;  and  by  the  way,  Ruth,  don't  you  want  to 
sell  me  that  coral  pin  you  used  to  wear  1  it  would  look 
very  pretty  with  this  green  dress." 

"  It  was  Harry's  gift,"  said  Euth. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Leila  ;  "  but  I  thought  you  'd  be  very 
glad  to  part  with  it  for  money" 

A  flush  passed  over  Ruth's  face.  "  Not  glad,  Leila," 
she  replied,  "  for  everything  that  once  belonged  to  Harry 
is  precious,  though  I  might  feel  necessitated  to  part  with 
it,  in  my  present  circumstances." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Millet,  touching  her  daugh 
ter's  elbow,  "  you  'd  better  have  it,  Leila." 

"  Harry  gave  ten  dollars  for  it,"  said  Ruth. 

"  Yes,  originally,  I  dare  say,"  replied  Mrs.  Millet, 
"  but  nobody  expects  to  get  much  for  second-hand  things. 
Leila  will  give  you  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  for  it,  and  she 


RUTH       HALL.  187 

would  like  it  soon,  because  when  this  north-east  storm 
blows  over,  she  wants  to  make  a  few  calls  on  Snyder's 
relatives,  in  this  very  becoming  silk  dress ;"  and  Mrs. 
Millet  patted  Leila  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Ruth. 

"  Don't  forget  the  brooch,"  said  Leila. 

"  I  wish  Ruth  would  go  off  into  the  country,  or  some 
where,"  remarked  Leila,  as  Ruth  closed  the  door.  "I 
have  been  expecting  every  day  that  Snyder  would  hear 
of  her  offering  to  make  caps  in  that  work-shop  ;  he  is 
so  fastidious  about  such  things,  being  connected  with  the 
Tidmarshes,  and  that  set,  you  know." 

"  Yes,"  said  Leila's  elder  brother  John,  a  half-fledged 
young  M.D.,  whose  collegiate  and  medical  education 
enabled  him  one  morning  to  astound  the  family 
breakfast-party  with  the  astute  information,  "  that  vine 
gar  was  an  acid."  "  Yes,  I  wish  she  would  take  herself 
off  into  the  country,  too.  I  had  as  lief  see  a  new  doc 
tor's  sign  put  up  next  door,  as  to  see  her  face  of  a  Mon 
day,  over  that  wash-tub,  in  our  kitchen.  I  wonder  if  she 
thinks  salt  an  improvement  in  soap-suds,  for  the  last 
time  I  saw  her  there  she  was  dropping  in  the  tears  on  her 
clothes,  as  she  scrubbed,  at  a  showering  rate ;  another 
thing,  mother,  I  wish  you  would  give  her  a  lesson  or  two, 
about  those  children  of  hers.  The  other  day  I  met  her 
Katy  in  the  street  with  the  shabbiest  old  bonnet  on,  and 
the  toes  of  her  shoes  all  rubbed  white  ;  and  she  had  the 


188  RUTH      HALL. 

impertinence  to  call  me^'  cousin  John,"  in  the  hearing  of 
young  Gerald,  wl.o  has  Just  returned  from  abroad,  and 
who  dined  with  Lord  Maiden,  in  Paris.  I  could  have 
wrung  the  little  wretch's  neck." 

"  It  was  provoking,  John.     I  '11  speak  to  her  about  it," 
said  Mrs.  Millet,  "  when  she  brings  the  coral  pin." 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 


T)UTH,  after  a  sleepless  night  of  reflection  upon  her 
new  project,  started  in  the  morning  in  quest  of  pu 
pils.  She  had  no  permission  to  refer  either  to  her  father, 
or  to  Mrs.  Millet ;  and  such  being  the  case,  the  very  fact 
of  her  requesting  this  favor  of  any  one  less  nearly  re 
lated,  would  be,  of  itself,  sufficient  to  cast  suspicion  upon 
her.  Some  of  the  ladies  upon  whom  she  called  were 
"  out,"  some  "  engaged,"  some  "  indisposed,"  and  all  in 
different  ;  besides,  people  are  not  apt  to  entrust  their 
children  with  a  person  of  whom  they  know  nothing ; 
Ruth  keenly  felt  this  disadvantage. 

One  lady  on  whom  she  called,  "  never  sent  her  chil 
dren  where  the  teacher's  own  children  were  taught ;" 
another  preferred  foreign  teachers,  "  it  was  something  to 
say  that  Alfred  and  Alfrida  were  '  finished'  at  Signor 
Vicchi's  establishment ;"  another,  after  putting  Ruth 
through  the  Catechism  as  to  her  private  history,  and 


190  RUTH       HALL. 

torturing  her  with  the  most  minute  inquiries  as  to  her 
past,  present,  and  future,  coolly  informed  her  that  "  she 
had  no  children  to  send." 

After  hours  of  fruitless  searching,  Ruth,  foot-sore  and 
heart-sore,  returned  to  her  lodgings.  That  day  at  dinner, 
some  one  of  the  boarders  spoke  of  a  young  girl,  who  had 
been  taken  to  the  Hospital  in  a  consumption,  contracted 
by  teaching  a  Primary  School  in street. 

The  situation  was  vacant ;  perhaps  she  could  get  it ; 
certainly  her  education  ought  to  qualify  her  to  satisfy  any 
"  School  Committee."  Ruth  inquired  who  they  were  ;  one 
was  her  cousin,  Mr.  Millet,  the  wooden  man ;  one  was 
Mr.  Develin,  the  literary  bookseller ;  the  two  others 
were  strangers.  Mr.  Millet  and  Mr.  Develin  !  and  both 
aware  how  earnestly  she  longed  for  employment !  Ruth 
looked  at  her  children ;  yes,  for  their  sake  she  would 
even  go  to  the  wooden  man,  and  Mr.  Develin,  and  ask  if 
it  were  not  possible  for  her  to  obtain  the  vacant  Primary 
School. 


CHAPTER    L. 

1\/TR.  MILLET  sat  in  his  counting  room,  with  his  pen 

-^  behind  his  ear,  examining  his  ledger.  "  Do  *?"  said 
he  concisely,  "by  way  of  salutation,  as  Ruth  entered. 

"  I  understand  there  is  a  vacancy  in  the  5th  Ward  Pri 
mary  School,"  said  Ruth  ;  "  can  you  tell  me,  as  you  are 
one  of  the  Committee  for  that  district,  if  there  is  any 
prospect  of  my  obtaining  it,  and  how  I  shall  manage  to 
do  so." 

<-  A-p-p-1-y,"  said  Mr.  Millet. 

"  When  is  the  examination  of  applicants  to  take 
place  T  asked  Ruth. 

"  T-u-e-s-d-a-y,"  replied  the  statue. 

"At  what  place V '  asked  Ruth. 

"  C-i-t-y-H-a-1-l,"  responded  the  wooden  man,  making 
an  entry  in  his  ledger. 

Ruth's  heroic  resolutions  to  ask  him  to  use  his  in 
fluence  in  her  behalf,  vanished  into  thin  air,  at  this  icy  re- 


192  RUTH       HALL. 

serve ;  and,  passing  out  into  the  street,  she  bent  her  slow 
steps  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Develin's.  On  entering  the 
door,  she  espied  that  gentleman  through  the  glass  door 
of  his  counting-room,  sitting  in  his  leathern  arm-chair, 
with  his  hands  folded,  in  an  attitude  of  repose  and  medi 
tation. 

"  Can  I  speak  to  you  a  moment  ?"  said  Ruth,  lifting 
the  latch  of  the  door. 

"Well — yes— certainly,  Mrs.  Hall,"  replied  Mr.  Deve- 
lin,  seizing  a  package  of  letters ;  "  it  is  an  uncommon 
busy  time  with  me,  but  yes,  certainly,  if  you  have  any 
thing  particular  to  say." 

Ruth  mentioned  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  the  Pri 
mary  School,  and  her  hopes  of  obtaining  it,  Mr.  Deve- 
lin,  meanwhile,  opening  the  letters  and  perusing  their 
contents.  When  she  had  finished,  he  said,  taking  his  hat 
to  go  out : 

"  I  don't  know  but  you  '11  stand  as  good  a  chance,  Mrs. 
Hall,  as  anybody  else  j  you  can  apply.  But  you  must 
excuse  me,  for  I  have  an  invoice  of  books  to  look  over, 
immediately." 

Poor  Ruth !  And  this  was  human  nature,  which,  for 
so  many  sunny  years  of  prosperity,  had  turned  to  her 
only  its  bright  side !  She  was  not  to  be  discouraged, 
however,  and  sent  in  her  application. 


CHAPTER     II. 

T1XAMINATION  day  came,  and  Ruth  bent  her  deter- 
•^  mined  steps  to  the  City  Hall.  The  apartment  desig 
nated  \vas  already  crowded  with  waiting  applicants,  who 
regarded,  with  jealous  eye,  each  addition  to  their  num 
ber  as  so  much  dimunitioii  of  their  own  individual 
chance  for  success. 

Ruth's  cheeks  grew  hot.  as  their  scrutinizing  and  un 
friendly  glances  were  bent  on  her,  and  that  feeling  of  ut 
ter  desolation  came  over  her,  which  was  always  so  over 
whelming  whenever  she  presented  herself  as  a  suppliant 
for  public  favor.  In  truth,  it  was  but  a  poor  preparation 
for  the  inquisitorial  torture  before  her. 

The  applicants  were  called  out,  one  by  one,  in  alpha 
betical  order  ;  Ruth  inwardly  blessing  the  early  nativity 
of  the  letter  H,  for  these  anticipatory-shower-bath  medi 
tations  were  worse  to  her  than  the  shock  of  a  volley  of 
chilling  interrogations. 

"  Letter  H." 

Q 


194  RUTH       HALL. 

Kuth  rose  with  a  flutter  at  her  heart,  and  entered  a 
huge,  barren-looking  room,  at  the  further  end  of  which 
sat,  in  august  state,  the  dread  committee.  Very  respecta 
ble  were  the  gentlemen  of  whom  that  committee  was 
composed ;  respectable  was  written  all  over  them,  from 
the  crowns  of  their  scholastic  heads  to  the  very  tips  of 
their  polished  boots ;  and  correct  and  methodical  as  a 
revised  dictionary  they  sat,  with  folded  hands  and  specta 
cle-bestridden  noses. 

Ruth  seated  herself  in  the  victim's  chair,  before  this 
august  body,  facing  a  flood  of  light  from  a  large  bay-win 
dow,  that  nearly  extinguished  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  your  age  T'  asked  the  elder  of  the  inquisi 
tors. 

Scratch  went  the  extorted  secret  on  the  nib  of  the 
reporter's  pen ! 

"  Where  was  you  educated  1" 

"  Was  Colburn,  or  Emerson,  your  teacher's  standard 
for  Arithmetic  ?" 

"  Did  you  cipher  on  a  slate,  or  black-board  f 

"  Did  you  learn  the  multiplication  table,  skipping,  or 
in  order  ?" 

"  Was  you  taught  Astronomy,  or  Philosophy,  first  ?" 

"  Are  you  accustomed  to  a  quill,  or  a  steel-pen  ?  lines, 
or  blank-paper,  in  writing  V 

"  Did  you  use  Smith's,  or  Jones'  Writing-Book  ?" 

"  Did  you  learn  Geography  by  Maps,  or  Globes9' 


RUTH       HALL  195 

"  Globes  ?"  asked  Mr.  Squizzle,  repeating  Ruth's  an 
swer  ;  "  possible  ?" 

"  They  use  Globes  at  the  celebrated  Jerrold  Institute," 
remarked  Mr.  Fizzle. 

"  Impossible  !"  retorted  Mr.  Squizzle,  growing  plethoric 
in  the  face ;  "  Globes,  sir,  are  exploded ;  no  institution 
of  any  note  uses  Globes,  sir.  I  know  it." 

"  And  I  know  you  labor  under  a  mistake,"  said  Fizzle, 
elevating  his  chin,  and  folding  his  arms  pugnaciously 
over  his  striped  vest.  "  I  am  acquainted  with  one  of  the 
teachers  in  that  highly-respectable  school." 

"  And  I,  sir,"  said  Squizzle,  "  am  well  acquainted  with 
the  Principal,  who  is  a  man  of  too  much  science,  sir,  to 
use  globes,  sir,  to  teach  geography,  sir." 

At  this,  Mr.  Fizzle  settled  down  behind  his  dicky  with 
a  quenched  air ;  and  the  very  important  question  being 
laid  on  the  shelf,  Mr.  Squizzle,  handing  Ruth  a  copy  of 
*'  Pollock's  Course  of  Time,"  requested  her  to  read  a 
marked  passage,  indicated  by  a  perforation  of  his  pen 
knife.  Poor  Ruth  stood  about  as  fair  a  chance  of  prov 
ing  her  ability  to  read  poetry,  as  would  Fanny  Kemble 
to  take  up  a  play,  hap-hazard,  at  one  of  her  dramatic 
readings,  without  a  previous  opportunity  to  gather  up  the 
author's  connecting  thread.  Our  heroine,  however,  went 
through  the  motions.  This  farce  concluded,  Ruth  was  dis 
missed  into  the  apartment  in  waiting,  to  make  room  for 
the  other  applicants,  each  of  whom  returned  with  red 


196  RUTH       HALL. 

faces,  moist  foreheads,  and  a  "  Carry-me-back-to-Old-Vir- 
ginia  "  air. 

An  hour's  added  suspense,  and  the  four  owners  of 
the  four  pair  of  inquisitorial  spectacles  inarched,  in 
procession,  into  the  room  in  waiting,  and  wheeling  "  face 
about,"  with  military  precision,  thumped  on  the  table, 
and  ejaculated : 

"  Attention !" 

Instantaneously,  five-and-twenty  pair  of  eyes,  black, 
blue,  brown,  and  gray,  were  riveted;  and  each  owner 
being  supplied  with  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  was  allowed  ten 
minutes  (with  the  four  pair  of  spectacles  levelled  full  at 
her)  to  express  her  thoughts  on  the  following  subject : 
"  Was  Christopher  Columbus  standing  up,  or  sitting 
down,  when  he  discovered  America  ?" 

The  four  watches  of  the  committee  men  being  drawn 
out,  pencils  began  to  scratch ;  and  the  terminus  of  the  al 
lotted  minutes,  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence,  was  the  place 
for  each  inspired  improvisatrice  to  stop. 

These  hasty  effusions  being  endorsed  by  appending 
each  writer's  signature,  new  paper  was  furnished,  and 
"  A-t-t-e-n-t-i-o-n !"  was  again  ejaculated  by  a  short,  pursy 
individual,  who  seemed  to  be  struggling  to  get  out  of  his 
coat  by  climbing  over  his  shirt  collar.  Little  armies  of 
figures  were  then  rattled  off  from  the  end  of  this  gentle 
man's  tongue,  with  "  Peter  Piper  Pipkin  "  velocity,  which 
the  anxious  pen-women  in  waiting  were  expected  to  arrest 


RUTH       HALL.  197 

in  flying,  and  have  the  "  sum  total  of  the  hull,"  as  one 
of  the  erudite  committee  observed,  already  added  up,  when 
the  illustrious  arithmetician  stopped  to  take  wind. 

This  being  the  finale,  the  ladies  were  sapiently  in 
formed  that,  as  only  one  school  mistress  was  needed, 
only  one  out  of  the  large  number  of  applicants  could  be 
elected,  and  that  "the  Committee  would  now  sit  on  them." 

At  this  gratifying  intelligence,  the  ladies,  favored  by  a 
plentiful  shower  of  rain,  betook  themselves  to  their  re 
spective  homes  ;  four-and-twenty,  God  help  them  !  to 
dream  of  a  reprieve  from  starvation,  which,  notwith 
standing  the  six-hours'  purgatory  they  had  passed  through, 
was  destined  to  elude  their  eager  grasp.  x 

The  votes  were  cast.     Ruth  was  not  elected.     She  had 

V^— 

been  educated,  (whether  fortunately  or  unfortunately,  let 
the  sequel  of  my  story  decide,)  at  a  school  where  "  Web-         \J 
ster"  was  used  instead  of  "  Worcester."      The  greatest    '^^ 
gun  on  the  Committee  was  a  Worcesterite.     Mr.  Millet  "J?Sk 
and  Mr.  Devclin  always  followed  in  the  wake  of  great] 
guns.     Mr.  Millet  ar«d  Mr.  Devclin  voted  against  Ruth. 


CHAPTER  LII. 


TT  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  very  tranquil 
-*-  and  quiet  at  the  Skiddy 's.  A  tidy,  rosy-cheeked 
young  woman  sat  rocking  the  deserted  little  Tommy  to 
sleep,  to  the  tune  of  "  I  've  been  roaming."  The  hearth 
was  neatly  swept,  the  tin  and  pewter  vessels  hung, 
brightly  polished,  from  their  respective  shelves.  The 
Maltese  cat  lay  winking  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  watch 
ing  the  play  of  a  stray  sunbeam,  which  had  found  its 
way  over  the  shed  and  into  the  small  window.  Ruth 
and  her  children  were  quiet,  as  usual,  in  their  gloomy 
back  chamber.  Mr.  Skiddy,  a  few  blocks  off,  sat  perched 
on  a  high  stool,  in  the  counting-room  of  Messrs.  Fogg 
&Co. 

Noiselessly  the  front-door  opened,  and  the  veritable 
Mrs.  Skiddy,  followed  by  Johnny  and  Sammy,  crept 
through  the  front  entry  and  entered,  unannounced,  into 
the  kitchen.  The  rosy-cheeked  young  woman  looked  at 


RUTH       HALL.  199 

Mrs.  Skidcly,  Mrs.  Skiddy  looked  at  her,  and  Tommy 
looked  at  both  of  them.  Mrs.  Skiddy  then  boxed  the 
rosy-cheeked  young  woman's  ears,  and  snatching  the  be 
wildered  baby  from  her  grasp,  ejected  her,  with  lightning 
velocity,  through  the  street-door,  and  turned  the  key.  It 
was  all  the  work  of  an  instant.  Sammy  and  Johnny 
were  used  to  domestic  whirlwinds,  so  they  were  not  sur 
prised  into  any  little  remarks  or  exclamations,  but  the 
cat,  less  philosophical,  laid  back  her  ears,  and  made 
for  the  ash-hole ;  while  Mrs.  Skiddy,  seating  herself  in 
the  rocking-chair,  unhooked  her  traveling  dress  and  re 
instated  the  delighted  Tommy  into  all  his  little  infantile 
privileges. 

Mr.  Skiddy  had  now  been  a  whole  week  a  widower ; 
time  enough  for  a  man  in  that  condition  to  grow  philo 
sophical.  In  fact,  Skiddy  was  content.  He  had  tasted 
the  sweets  of  liberty,  and  he  liked  them.  The  baby,  poor 
little  soul,  tired  of  remonstrance,  had  given  out  from 
sheer  weariness,  and  took  resignedly  as  a  little  christain 
to  his  pewter  porringer.  Yes,  Skiddy  liked  it ;  he  could 
be  an  hour  behind  his  time  without  dodging,  on  his  re 
turn,  a  rattling  storm  of  abuse  and  crockery  j  he  could 
spend  an  evening  out,  without  drawing  a  map  of  his 
travels  before  starting.  On  the  afternoon  in  question  he 
felt  particularly  felicitous  •  first,  because  he  had  dined  off 
fried  liver  and  potatoes,  a  dish  which  he  particularly  af 
fected,  and  which,  on  that  very  account,  he  could  seldom 


^00  RUTH      HALL. 

get  in  his  own  domicil ;  secondly,  he  was  engaged  to  go 
that  very  evening  with  his  old  love,  Nancy  Spriggins,  to 
see  the  "  Panorama  of  Niagara ;"  and  he  had  left  orders 
with  Betty  to  have  tea  half  an  hour  earlier  in  conse 
quence,  and  to  be  sure  and  iron  and  air  his  killing  plaid 
vest  by  seven  o'clock. 

As  the  afternoon  waned,  Skiddy  grew  restless ;  he 
made  wrong  entries  in  the  ledger ;  dipped  his  pen  into 
the  sand-box  instead  of  the  inkstand,  and  several  times 
said  "  Yes,  dear,"  to  his  employer,  Mr.  Fogg,  of  Fogg 
Square. 

Six  o'clock  came  at  last,  and  the  emancipated  Skiddy, 
turning  his  back  on  business,  walked  towards  home,  in 
peace  with  himself,  and  in  love  with  Nancy  Spriggins. 
On  the  way  he  stopped  to  purchase  a  bouquet  of  roses 
and  geraniums  with  which  to  regale  that  damsel's  olfac 
tories  during  the  evening's  entertainment. 

Striding  through  the  front  entry,  like  a  man  who  felt 
himself  to  be  master  of  his  own  house,  Skiddy  hastened 
to  the  kitchen  to  expedite  tea.  If  he  was  not  prepared 
for  Mrs.  Skiddy's  departure,  still  less  was  he  prepared 
for  her  return,  especially  with  that  tell-tale  bouquet  in 
his  hand.  But,  like  all  other  hen-pecked  husbands,  on  the 
back  of  the  scape-goat  Cunning,  he  fled  away  from  the 
uplifted  lash. 

"My  dear  Matilda,"  exclaimed  Skiddy,  "my  own 
wife,  how  could  you  be  so  cruel  ?  Every  day  since  your 


RUTH       HALL.  201 

departure,  hoping  to  find  you  here  on  my  return  from 
the  store,  I  have  purchased  a  bouquet  like  this  to  present 
you.  My  dear  wife,  let  by-gones  be  by-gones ;  my 
love  for  you  is  imperishable." 

"  V-c-r-y  good,  Mr.  Skiddy,"  said  his  wife,  accepting 
Nancy  Spriggins's  bouquet,  with  a  queenly  nod ;  "  and  now 
let  us  have  no  more  talk  of  California,  if  you  please,  Mr. 
Skiddy." 

"  Certainly  not,  my  darling  ;  I  was  a  brute,  a  beast,  a 
wretch,  a  Hottentot,  a  cannibal,  a  vampire — to  distress 
you  so.  Dear  little  Tommy !  how  pleasant  it  seems  to 
see  him  in  your  arms  again." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs,  Skiddy,  "  I  was  not  five  minutes 
in  sending  that  red-faced  German  girl  spinning  through 
the  front-door  ;  I  hope  you  have  something  decent  for  us 
to  eat,  Skiddy.  Johnny  and  Sammy  are  pretty  sharp- 
set  ;  why  don't  you  come  and  speak  to  your  father, 
boys  !" 

The  young  gentlemen  thus  summoned,  slowly  came 
forward,  looking  altogether  undecided  whether  it  was 
best  to  notice  their  father  or  not.  A  ginger-cake,  how 
ever,  and  a  slice  of  buttered  bread,  plentifully  powdered 
with  sugar,  wonderfully  assisted  them  in  coming  to  a  de 
cision.  As  to  Nancy  Spriggins,  poor  soul,  she  pulled  off 
her  gloves,  and  pulled  them  on,  that  evening,  and  looked 
at  her  watch,  and  looked  up  street  and  down  street,  and 
declared,  as  "the  clock  told  the  hour  for  retiring,"  that 
9* 


202  RUTH       HALL. 

man  was  a  ,  a ,  in  short,  that  woman  was  born 

to  trouble,  as  the  sparks  are — to  fly  away. 

Mrs.  Skiddy  resumed  her  household  duties  with  as 
much  coolness  as  if  there  had  been  no  interregnum,  and 
received  the  boarders  at  tea  that  night,  just  as  if  she  had 
parted  with  them  that  day  at  dinner.  Skiddy  was  ap 
parently  as  devoted  as  ever ;  the  uninitiated  boarders 
opened  their  eyes  in  bewildered  wonder;  and  triumph 
sat  inscribed  on  the  arch  of  Mrs.  Skiddy's  imposing  Bo 
rn  an  nose. 

The  domestic  horizon  still  continued  cloudless  at  the 
next  morning's  breakfast.  After  the  boarders  had  left 
the  table,  the  market  prices  of  beef,  veal,  pork,  cutlets, 
chops,  and  steaks,  were  discussed  as  usual,  the  bill  of 
fare  for  the  day  was  drawn  up  by  Mrs.  Skiddy,  and  her 
obedient  spouse  departed  to  execute  her  market  orders. 


CHAPTER   LIU. 

"  TT7ELL,  I  hope  you  have  been  comfortable  in  my  ab 
sence,  Mrs.  Hall,"  said  Mrs.  Skiddy,  after  de 
spatching  her  husband  to  market,  as  she  seated  herself  in 
the  chair  nearest  the  door ;  "  ha !  ha !  John  and  I  may 
call  it  quits  now.  He  is  a  very  good  fellow — John  ;  ex 
cept  these  little  tantrums  he  gets  into  once  in  a  while ; 
the  only  way  is,  to  put  a  stop  to  it  at  once,  and  let  him 
see  who  is  master.  John  never  will  set  a  river  on  fire  ; 
there  's  no  sort  of  use  in  his  trying  to  take  the  reins — the 
man  was  n't  born  for  it.  I  'm  too  sharp  for  him,  that 's  a 
fact.  Ha !  ha !  poor  Johnny  !  I  must  tell  you  what  a 
trick  I  played  him  about  two  years  after  our  marriage. 
"  You  must  know  he  had  to  go  away  on  business  for 
Fogg  &  Co.,  to  collect  bills,  or  something  of  that  sort. 
Well,  he  made  a  great  fuss  about  it,  as  husbands  who 
like  to  go  away  from  home  always  do  ;  and  said  he 
should  'pine  for  the  sight  of  me,  and  never  know  a 


204  RUTH       HALL. 

happy  hour  till  he  saw  me  again,'  and  all  that ;  &n  i 
finally  declared  he  would  not  go,  without  I  would  let  him 
take  my  Daguerreotype.  Of  course,  I  knew  that  was  all 
humbug ;  but  I  consented.  The  likeness  was  pronounced 
4  good,'  and  placed  by  me  in  his  travelling  trunk,  when  I 
packed  his  clothes.  Well,  he  was  gone  a  month,  and 
when  he  came  back,  he  told  me  (great  fool)  what  a  com 
fort  my  Daguerreotype  was  to  him,  and  how  he  had 
looked  at  it  twenty  times  a  day,  and  kissed  it  as  many 
more ;  whereupon  I  went  to  his  trunk,  and  opening  it, 
took  out  the  case  and  showed  it  to  him — without  the  plate, 
which  I  had  taken  care  to  slip  out  of  the  frame  just 
before  he  started,  and  which  he  had  never  found  out ! 
That 's  a  specimen  of  John  Skiddy  ! — and  John  Skiddjf 
is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  rest  of  his  sex,  let  me  tell  you, 
Mrs.  Hall.  Well,  of  course  he  looked  sheepish  enough ; 
and  now,  whenever  I  want  to  take  the  nonsense  out  of 
him,  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  point  to  that  Daguerreotype 
case,  which  I  keep  lying  on  the  mantel  on  purpose, 
a  woman  is  married,  Mrs.  Hall,  she  must  make 
up  her  mind  either  to  manage,  or  to  be  managed ;  /  pre 
fer  to  manage,"  said  the  amiable  Mrs.  Skiddy  ;  "  and  I 
flatter  myself  John  understands  it  by  this  time.  But, 
dear  me,  I  can't  stand  here  prating  to  you  all  day.  I 
must  look  round  and  see  what  mischief  has  been  done  in 
my  absence,  by  that  lazy-looking  red-faced  German  girl," 
and  Mrs.  Skiddy  laughed  heartily,  as  she  related  how  she 


RUTH       HALL.  205 

had  sent  her  spinning  through  the  front  <^or  the  night 
before. 

Half  the  forenoon  was  occupied  by  Mrs.  Skiddy  in 
counting  up  spoons,  forks,  towels,  and  baby's  pinafores, 
to  see  if  they  had  sustained  loss  or  damage  during  her  ab 
sence. 

"  Very  odd  dinner  don't  come,"  said  she,  consulting  the 
kitchen  clock  ;  ':  it  is  high  time  that  beef  was  on,  roast- 
ing." 

It  was  odd — and  odder  still  that  Skiddy  had  not  ap 
peared  to  tell  her  why  the  dinner  did  n't  come.  Mrs. 
Skiddy  wasted  no  time  in  words  about  it.  No  ;  she  seized 
her  bonnet,  and  went  immediately  to  Fogg  &  Co.,  to 
get  some  tidings  of  him;  they  were  apparently  quite  as 
much  at  a  loss  as  herself  to  account  for  Skiddy's  non- 
appearance.  She  was  just  departing,  when  one  of  the  sub- 
clerks,  whom  the  unfortunate  Skiddy  had  once  snubbed, 
whispered  a  word  in  her  ear,  the  effect  of  which  was  in 
stantaneous.  Did  she  let  the  grass  grow  under  her  feet 
till  she  tracked  Skiddy  to  "  the  wharf,"  and  boarded  the 
"  Sea-Gull,"  bound  for  California,  and  brought  the  crest 
fallen  man  triumphantly  back  to  his  domicil,  amid  con 
vulsions  of  laughter  from  the  amused  captain  and  his 
crew  ?  No. 

"There,  now,"  said  his  amiable  spouse,  untying  her 
bonnet,  "  there 's  another  flash  in  the  pan,  Skiddy.  Any 
body  who  thinks  to  circumvent  Matilda  Maria  Skiddv, 


206  RUTH      HALL. 

must  get  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  find  themselves 
too  late  at  that.  Now  hold  this  child,"  dumping  the 
doomed  baby  into  his  lap,  "  while  I  comb  my  hair. 
Goodness  knows  you  were  n't  worth  bringing  back ;  but 
when  I  set  out  to  have  my  own  way,  Mr.  Skiddy,  Mount 
Vesuvius  shan't  stop  me." 

Skiddy  tended  the  baby  without  a  remonstrance ;  he 
perfectly  understood,  that  for  a  probationary  time  he 
should  be  put  "  on  the  limits,"  the  street-door  being  the 
boundary  line.  He  heaved  no  sigh  when  his  coat  and 
hat,  with  the  rest  of  his  wearing  apparel,  were  locked  up, 
and  the  key  buried  in  the  depths  of  his  wife's  pocket. 
He  played  with  Tommy,  and  made  card-houses  for 
Sammy  and  Johnny,  wound  several  tangled  skeins  of  silk 
for  "  Maria  Matilda,"  mended  a  broken  button  on  the 
closet  door,  replaced  a  missing  knob  on  one  of  the 
bureau  drawers,  and  appeared  to  be  in  as  resigned  and 
proper  a  frame  of  mind  as  such  a  perfidious  wretch  could 
be  expected  to  be  in. 

Two  or  three  weeks  passed  in  this  state  of  incarcera 
tion,  during  which  the  errand-boy  of  Fogg  &  Co.  had 
been  repeatedly  informed  by  Mrs.  Skiddy,  that  the  doc 
tor  hoped  Mr.  Skiddy  would  soon  be  sufficiently  conva 
lescent  to  attend  to  business.  As  to  Skiddy,  he  continued 
at  intervals  to  shed  crocodile  tears  over  his  past  short 
comings,  or  rather  his  short-goings  !  In  consequence  of 
this  apparently  submissive  frame  of  mind,  he,  one  fine 

1 


RUTH       HALL.  207 

morning,  received  total  absolution  from  Mrs.  Skiddy,  and 
leave  to  go  to  the  store  ;  which  Skiddy  peremptorily  de 
clined,  desiring,  as  he  said,  to  test  the  sincerity  of  his  re 
pentance  by  a  still  longer  period  of  probation. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Skiddy,"  said  Maria  Matilda,  point 
ing  to  the  Daguerreotype  case,  and  then  crowding  his 
beaver  down  over  his  eyes ;  "  don't  be  a  fool.  Make  a 
B  line  for  the  store,  now,  and  tell  Fogg  you  've  had  an 
attack  of  room-a-tism  ;"  and  Maria  Matilda  laughed  at  her 
wretched  pun. 

Skiddy  obeyed.  No  Uriah  Heep  could  have  out-done 
him  in  "  'umbleness,"  as  he  crept  up  the  long  street,  until 
a  friendly  corner  hid  him  from  the  lynx  eyes  of  Maria 
Matilda.  Then  "  Richard  was  himself  again  "  !  Draw 
ing  a  long  breath,  our  flying  Mercury  whizzed  past  the 
mile-stones,  and,  before  sun-down  of  the  same  day,  was 
under  full  sail  for  California. 

Just  one  half  hour  our  Napoleon  in  petticoats  spent  in 
reflection,  after  being  satisfied  that  Skiddy  was  really  "  on 
the  deep  blue  sea."  In  one  day  she  had  cleared  her 
house  of  boarders,  and  reserving  one  room  for  herself 
and  children,  filled  all  the  other  apartments  with  lodg 
ers ;  who  paid  her  good  prices,  and  taking  their  meals 
down  town,  made  her  no  trouble  beyond  the  care  of  their 
respective  rooms. 

About  a  year  after  a  letter  came  from  Skiddy.     He 


RUTH       HALL. 


was  "  disgusted  :'  with  ill-luck  at  gold-digging,  and  ill-luck 
everywhere  else  ;  he  had  been  "  burnt  out,"  and 
"robbed,"  and  everything  else  but  murdered;  and 
"  'umbly  "  requested  his  dear  Maria  Matilda  to  send  him 
the  "  passage-money  to  return  home." 

Mrs.  Skiddy's  picture  should  have  been  taken  at  that 
moment !  My  pen  fails !  Drawing  from  her  pocket  a 
purse  well  filled  with  her  own  honest  earnings,  she 
chinked  its  contents  at  some  phantom  shape  discernible  to 
her  eyes  alone ;  while  through  her  set  teeth  hissed  out, 
like  ten  thousand  serpents,  the  word 


CHAPTER  LIV. 


"  TTTHAT  is  it  on  the  gate  ?  Spell  it,  motjier,"  said 
Katy,  looking  wistfully  through  the  iron  fence  at 
the  terraced  banks,  smoothly-rolled  gravel  walks,  plats  of 
flowers,  and  grape-trellised  arbors ;  "  what  is  it  on  the 
gate,  mother?" 

"  '  Insane  Hospital,'  dear  ;  a  place  for  crazy  people." 

"  Want  to  walk  round,  ma'am  ?"  asked  the  gate-keeper, 
as  Katy  poked  her  little  head  in ;  "  can,  if  you  like." 
Little  Katy's  eyes  pleaded  eloquently;  flowers  were  to 
her  another  name  for  happiness,  and  Ruth  passed  in. 

"  I  should  like  to  live  here,  mamma,"  said  Katy. 

Ruth  shuddered,  and  pointed  to  a  pale  face  pressed 
close  against  the  grated  window.  Fair  rose  the  building 
in  its  architectural  proportions ;  the  well-kept  lawn  was 
beautiful  to  the  eye ;  but,  alas !  there  was  helpless  age, 
whose  only  disease  was  too  long  a  lease  of  life  for  greedy 
heirs.  There,  too,  was  the  fragile  wife,  to  whom  love  was 


210 


RUTH       HALL. 


breath — being! — forgotten  by  the  world  and  him  in 
whose  service  her  bloom  had  withered,  insane — only  in 
that  her  love  had  outlived  his  patience. 

"  Poor  creatures !"  exclaimed  Ruth,  as  they  peered 
out  from  one  window  after  another.  "  Have  you  had 
many  deaths  here  V  asked  she  of  the  gate-keeper. 

"Some,  ma'am.  There  is  one  corpse  in  the  house 
now  ;  a  married  lady,  Mrs.  Leon." 

"  Good  heavens  !"  exclaimed  Ruth,  "  my  friend  Mary." 

"  Died  yesterday,  ma'am ;  her  husband  left  her  here  for 
her  health2  while  he  went  to  Europe." 

"  Can  I  see  the  Superintendent,"  asked  Ruth  ;  "  I  must 
speak  to  him." 

Ruth  followed  the  gate-keeper  up  the  ample  steps  into 
a  wide  hall,  and  from  thence  into  a  small  parlor ;  after 
waiting  what  seemed  to  her  an  age  of  time,  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
the  Superintendent,  entered.  He  was  a  tall,  handsome 
man,  between  forty  and  fifty,  with  a  very  imposing  air 
and  address. 

"  I  am  pained  to  learn,"  said  Ruth,  "  that  a  friend  of 
mine,  Mrs.  Leon,  lies  dead  here ;  can  I  see  the  body  1" 

"  Are  you  a  relative  of  that  lady  ?"  asked  Mr.  Tib 
betts,  with  a  keen  glance  at  Ruth. 

"  No,"  replied  Ruth,  "  but  she  was  very  dear  to  me. 
The  last  time  I  saw  her,  not  many  months  since,  she 
was  in  tolerable  health.  Has  she  been  long  with  you, 
Sir  ?" 


R  IT  T  H       H  A  L  L  .  21 1 

"  About  two  months,"  replied  Mr.  Tibbetts  ;  "  she  was 
hopelessly  crazy,  refused  food  entirely,  so  that  we  were 
obliged  to  force  it.  Her  husband,  who  is  an  intimate 
friend  of  mine,  left  her  under  my  care,  and  went  to  the 
Continent.  A  very  fine  man,  Mr.  Leon." 

Ruth  did  not  feel  inclined  to  respond  to  this  remark, 
but  repeated  her  request  to  see  Mary. 

"It  is  against  the  rules  of  our  establishment  to  per 
mit  this  to  any  but  relatives,"  said  Mr.  Tibbetts. 

"  I  should  esteem  it  a  great  favor  if  you  would  break 
through  your  rules  in  my  case,"  replied  Ruth ;  "  it  will  be 
a  great  consolation  to  me  to  have  seen  her  once  more  ;" 
and  her  voice  faltered. 

The  appeal  was  made  so  gently,  yet  so  firmly,  that 
Mr.  Tibbetts  reluctantly  yielded. 

The  matron  of  the  establishment,  Mrs.  Bunce,  (whose 
advent  was  heralded  by  the  clinking  of  a  huge  bunch  of 
keys  at  her  waist,)  soon  after  came  in.  Mrs.  Bunce  was 
gaunt,  sallow  and  bony,  with  restless,  yellowish,  glaring 
black  eyes,  very  much  resembling  those  of  a  cat  in  the 
dark ;  her  motions  were  quick,  brisk,  and  angular ;  her 
voice  loud,  harsh,  and  wiry.  Ruth  felt  an  instantaneous 
aversion  to  her ;  which  was  not  lessened  by  Mrs.  Bunce 
asking,  as  they  passed  through  the  parlor-door  : 

"  Fond  of  looking  at  corpses,  ma'am  *?  I  've  seen  a 
great  many  in  rny  day ;  I  Ve  laid  out  more  'n  twenty  peo 
ple,  first  and  last,  with  my  own  hands.  Relation  of  Mrs. 


212  RUTH      HALL. 

Leon's,  perhaps?"  said  she,  curiously  peering  under 
Ruth's  bonnet.  <:  Ah,  only  a  friend  ?" 

"  This  way,  if  you  please,  ma'am ;"  and  on  they  went, 
through  one  corridor,  then  another,  the  massive  doors 
swinging  heavily  to  on  their  hinges,  and  fastening  behind 
them  as  they  closed. 

"  Hark !"  said  Ruth,  with  a  quick,  terrified  look, 
"  what 's  that  T 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  replied  the  matron,  "  only  a  crazy 
woman  in  that  room  yonder,  screaming  for  her  child. 
Her  husband  ran  away  from  her  and  carried  off  her  child 
with  him,  to  spite  her,  and  now  she  fancies  every  foot 
step  she  hears  is  his.  Visitors  always  thinks  she  screams 
awful.  She  can't  harm  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  matron, 
mistaking  the  cause  of  Ruth's  shudder,  "  for  she  is 
chained.  She  went  to  law  about  the  child,  and  the  law, 
you  see,  as  it  generally  is,  was  on  the  man's  side ;  and  it 
just  upset  her.  She 's  a  sight  of  trouble  to  manage.  If 
she  was  to  catch  sight  of  your  little  girl  out  there  in  the 
garden,  she  'd  spring  at  her  through  them  bars  like  a 
panther ;  but  we  don't  have  to  whip  her  very  often." 

"  Down  here,"  said  the  matron,  taking  the  shuddering 
Ruth  by  the  hand,  and  descending  a  flight  of  stone  steps, 
into  a  dark  passage-way.  "Tired  arn't  you  ?" 

"  Wait  a  bit,  please,"  said  Ruth,  leaning  against  the 
stone  wall,  for  her  limbs  were  trembling  so  violently  that 
she  could  scarcely  bear  her  weight. 


RUTH       HALL.  213 

"  JVbzo,"  said  she,  (after  a  pause,)  with  a  firmer  voice 
and  step. 

"  This  way,"  said  Mrs.  Bunce,  advancing  towards  a 
rough  deal  box  which  stood  on  a  table  in  a  niche  of  the 
cellar,  and  setting  a  small  lamp  upon  it ;  "  she  did  n't 
look  no  better  than  that,  ma'am,  for  a  long  while  before 
she  died." 

Ruth  gave  one  hurried  glance  at  the  corpse,  and  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands.  Well  might  she  fail  to  recognize 
in  that  emaciated  form,  tjjose  sunken  eyes  and  hollow 
cheeks,  the  beautiful  Mary  Leon.  Well  might  she  shud 
der,  as  the  gibbering  screams  of  the  maniacs  over  head 
echoed  through  the  stillness  of  that  cold,  gloomy  vault. 

"  Were  you  with  her  at  the  last1?"  asked  Ruth  of  the 
matron,  wiping  away  her  tears. 

"  No,"  replied  she;  "  the  afternoon  she  died  she  said, 
'  I  want  to  be  alone,'  and,  not  thinking  her  near  her  end, 
I  took  my  work  and  sat  just  outside  the  door.  I  looked 
in  once,  about  half  an  hour  after,  but  she  lay  quietly 
asleep,  with  her  cheek  in  her  hand, — so.  By-and-bye  I 
thought  I  would  speak  to  her,  so  I  went  in,  and  saw  her 
lying  just  as  she  did  when  I  looked  at  her  before.  I  spoke 
to  her,  but  she  did  not  answer  me  ;  she  was  dead,  ma'am." 

O,  how  mournfully  sounded  in  Ruth's  ears  those  plain 
tive  words,  "  I  want  to  be  alone.''  Poor  Mary  !  aye,  bet 
ter  even  in  death  *  alone,'  than  gazed  at  by  careless,  hire- 


214  RUTH       HALL. 

ling  eyes,  since  he  who  should  have  closed  those  drooping 
lids,  had  wearied  of  their  faded  light. 

"  Did  she  speak  of  no  one  ?"  asked  Ruth ;  "  mention 
no  one1?" 

"  No — yes ;  I  recollect  now  that  she  said  something 
about  calling  Ruth ;  I  did  n't  pay  any  attention,  for 
they  don't  know  what  they  are  saying,  you  know.  She 
scribbled  something,  too,  on  a  bit  of  paper ;  I  found  it 
under  her  pillow,  when  I  laid  her  out.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  it  was  in  my  pocktf  now ;  I  have  n't  thought  of 
it  since.  Ah  !  here  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Bunce,  as  she  handed 
the  slip  of  paper  to  Ruth. 

It  ran  thus : — "  I  am  not  crazy,  Ruth,  no,  no — but  I 
shall  be ;  the  air  of  this  place  stifles  me ;  I  grow  weaker — 
weaker.  I  cannot  die  here  ;  for  the  love  of  heaven,  dear 
Ruth,  come  and  take  me  away." 

"  Only  three  mourners, — a  woman  and  two  little  girls," 
exclaimed  a  by-stander,  as  Ruth  followed  Mary  Leon  to 
her  long  home. 


CHAPTER  LV. 


sudden  change  in  Mrs.  Skiddy's  matrimonial 
prospects,  necessitated  Ruth  to  seek  other  quarters. 
With  a  view  to  still  more  rigid  economy,  she  hired  a 
room  without  board,  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city. 

Mrs.  Waters,  her  new  landlady,  was  one  of  that  de 
scription  of  females,  whose  vision  is  bounded  by  a  mop, 
scrubbing-brush,  and  dust-pan  ;  who  repudiate  rainy  wash 
ing  days  ;  whose  hearth,  Jowler,  on  the  stormiest  night, 
would  never  venture  near  without  a  special  permit,  and 
whose  husband  and  children  speak  under  their  breath  on 
baking  and  cleaning  days.  Mrs.  Waters  styled  herself  a 
female  physician.  She  kept  a  sort  of  witch's  cauldron  con 
stantly  boiling  over  the  fire,  in  which  seethed  all  sorts  of 
"  mints  "  and  "  yarbs,"  and  from  which  issued  what  she 
called  a  "  potecary  odor."  Mrs.  Waters,  when  not  en 
gaged  in  stirring  this  cauldron,  or  in  her  various  housf3- 
keeping  duties,  alternated  her  leisure  in  reading  medical 


216  RUTH     HALL. 

books,  attending   medical   lectures,  and   fondling  a  pet 
skull,  which  lay  on  the  kitchen-dresser. 

Various  little  boxes  of  brown-bread-looking  pills  or 
namented  the  upper  shelf,  beside  a  row  of  little  dropsical 
chunky  junk  bottles,  whose  labels  would  have  puzzled 
the  most  erudite  M.  D.  who  ever  received  a  diploma. 
Mrs.  Waters  felicitated  herself  on  knowing  how  the 
outer  and  inner  man' of  every  son  of  Adam  was  put 
together,  and  considered  the  times  decidedly  "out  of 
joint ;"  inasmuch  that  she,  Mrs.  Waters,  had  not  been 
called  upon  by  her  country  to  fill  some  medical  professor 
ship. 

In  person  Mrs.  Waters  was  barber-pole-ish  and  ram- 
rod-y,  and  her  taste  in  dress  running  mostly  to 
stringy  fabrics,  assisted  the  bolster-y  impression  she 
created ;  her  hands  and  wrists  bore  a  strong  resemblance 
to  the  yellow  claws  of  defunct  chickens,  which  children 
play  "scare"  with  about  Thanksgiving  time;  her  feet 
were  of  turtle  flatness,  and  her  eyes — if  you  ever  pro 
voked  a  cat  up  to  the  bristling  and  scratching  point,  you 
may  possibly  form  an  idea  of  them. 

Mrs.  Waters  condescended  to  allow  Ruth  to  keep  the 
quart  of  milk  and  loaf  of  bread,  (which  was  to  serve  for 
her  bill  of  fare  for  every  day's  three  meals,)  on  a  swing 
shelf  in  a  corner  of  the  cellar.  As  Ruth's  room  was  at 
the  top  of  the  house,  it  was  somewhat  of  a  journey  to 
travel  up  and  down,  and  the  weather  was  too  warm  to 


RUTH      HALL.  217 

keep  it  up  stairs ;  to  her  dismay  she  soon  found  that  the 
cellar-floor  was  generally  more  or  less  flooded  with  wa 
ter,  and  the  sudden  change  from  the  heated  air  of  her 
attic  to  the  dampness  of  the  cellar,  brought  on  a  racking 
cough,  which  soon  told  upon  her  health.  Upon  the  first 
symptom  of  it,  Mrs.  Waters  seized  a  box  of  pills  and 
hurried  to  her  room,  assuring  her  that  it  was  "  a  sure 
cure,  and  only  three  shillings  a  br 

'•  Thank  you,"  said  Ruth  ;  u  b      u  .'"      y  ru)e  never  to 
take  medicine  unless — 

"  Oh,  oh,"  said  Mrs.  Waters,  bridling  up ;  "  I  see — un 
less  it  is  ordered  by  a  physician,  you  were  going  to  say  ; 
perhaps  you  don't  know  that  /  am  a  physician — none  the 
worse  for  being  a  female.  I  have  investigated  things  ;  I 
have  dissected  several  cats,  and  sent  in  an  analysis  of  them 
to  the  Medical  Journal ;  it  has  never  been  published,  ow 
ing,  probably,  to  the  editor  being  out  of  town.  If  you  will 
take  six  of  these  pills  every  other  night,"  said  the  doc- 
tress,  laving  the  box  on  the  table,  "  it  will  cure  your 
cough ;  it  is  only  three  shillings.  I  will  take  the  money 
now,  or  charge  it  in  your  bill/' 

"  Three  shillings !"  Ruth  was  aghast ;  she  might  as 
well  have  asked  her  three  dollars.  If  there  was  anything 
Ruth  was  afraid  of,  it  was  Mrs.  Waters^style  of  woman  ; 
a  loaded  cannon,  or  a  regiment  of  dragoons,  would  have 
had  few  terrors  in  comparison.  But  the  music  must  be 
faced  ;  so,  hoping  to  avoid  treading  on  her  landlady's  pro- 
10 


218  RUTH       HALL. 

fessional  toes,  Ruth  said,  "  I  think  I  '11  try  first  what  diet 
ing  will  do,  Mrs.  Waters." 

The  door  instantly  banged  to  with  a  crash,  as  the 
owner  and  vender  of  the  pills  passed  out.  The  next 
day  Mrs.  Waters  drew  off  a  little  superfluous  feminine 
bile,  by  announcing  to  Ruth,  with  a  malignity  worthy  of 
her  sex,  "  that  she  forgot  to  mention  when  she  let  her 
lodgings,  ;;hat  she  should  expect  her  to  scour  the  stairs 
she  traveled  over,  at  least  once  a  week." 


CHAPTER    LVI. 

TT  was  a  sultry  morning  in  July.  Ruth  had  risen  early, 
for  her  cough  seemed  more  troublesome  in  a  reclining 
posture.  "  I  wonder  what  that  noise  can  be  ?"  said  she  to 
herself;  whir — whir — whir,  it  went,  all  day  long  in  the 
attic  overhead.  She  knew  that  Mrs.  Waters  had  one  other 
lodger  beside  herself,  an  elderly  gentleman  by  the  name 
of  Bond,  who  cooked  his  own  food,  and  whom  she  often 
met  on  the  stairs,  coming  up  with  a  pitcher  of  water,  or 
a  few  eggs  in  a  paper  bag,  or  a  pie  that  he  had  bought  of 
Mr.  Flake,  at  the  little  black  grocery-shop  at  the  corner. 
On  these  occasions  he  always  stepped  aside,  and  with  a 
deferential  bow  waited  for  Ruth  to  pass.  He  was  a  thin, 
spare  man,  slightly  bent ;  his  hair  and  whiskers  curiously 
striped  like  a  zebra,  one  lock  being  jet  black,  while  the 
neighboring  one  was  as  distinct  a  white.  His  dress 
was  plain,  but  very  neat  and  tidy.  He  never  seemed  to 
have  any  business  out-doors,  as  he  stayed  in  his  room  all 


220  RUTH      HALL. 

day,  never  leaving  it  at  all  till  dark,  when  he  paced  up 
and  down,  with  his  hands  behind  him,  before  the  house. 
"  Whir  —  whir  —  whir."  It  was  early  sunrise  ;  but 
Ruth  had  heard  that  odd  noise  for  two  hours  at  least. 
What  could  it  mean  1  Just  then  a  carrier  passed  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street  with  the  morning  papers,  and 
slipped  one  under  the  crack  of  the  house  door  opposite. 

A  thought !  why  could  not  Ruth  write  for  the  papers  ? 
How  very  odd  it  had  never  occurred  to  her  before  "?  Yes, 
write  for  the  papers — why  not  *?  She  remembered  that 
while  at  boarding-school,  an  editor  of  a  paper  in  the  same 
town  used  often  to  come  in  and  take  down  her  compo 
sitions  in  short-hand  as  she  read  them  aloud,  and  trans 
fer  them  to  the  columns  of  his  paper.  She  certainly 
ought  to  write  better  now  than  she  did  when  an  inexperi 
enced  girl.  She  would  begin  that  very  night ;  but  where 
to  make  a  beginning  ?  who  would  publish  her  articles  ? 
how  much  would  they  pay  her  1  to  whom  should  she 
apply  first  1  There  was  her  brother  Hyacinth,  now  the 
prosperous  editor  of  the  Irving  Magazine  ;  oh,  if  he  would 
only  employ  her  1  Ruth  wras  quite  sure  she  could  write 
as  well  as  some  of  his  correspondents,  whom  he  had 
praised  with  no  niggardly  pen.  "She  would  prepare  sam 
ples  to  send  immediately,  announcing  her  intention,  and 
offering  them  for  his  acceptance.  This  means  of  support 
would  be  so  congenial,  so  absorbing.  At  the  needle  one's 
mind  could  still  be  brooding  over  sorrowful  thoughts. 


RUTH       HALL.  221 

Ruth  counted  the  days  and  hours  impatiently,  as  she 
waited  for  an  answer.  Hyacinth  surely  would  not  refuse 
her  when  in  almost  every  number  of  his  magazine  he  was 
announcing  some  new  contributor ;  or,  if  lie  could  not 
employ  her  himself,  he  surely  would  be  brotherly  enough 
to  point  out  to  her  some  one  of  the  many  avenues  so  ac 
cessible  to  a  man  of  extensive  newspaperial  and  literary 
acquaintance.  She  would  so  gladly  support  herself,  so 
cheerfully  toil  day  and  night,  if  need  be,  could  she  only 
win  an  independence  ;  and  Ruth  recalled  with  a  sigh 
Katy's  last  visit  to  her  father,  and  then  she  rose  and 
walked  the  floor  in  her  impatience  ;  and  then,  her  restless 
spirit  urging  her  on  to  her  fate,  she  went  again  to  the 
post  ofiice  to  see  if  there  were  no  letter.  How  long  the 
clerk  made  her  wait !  Yes,  there  was  a  letter  for  her,  and 
in  her  brother's  hand-writing  too.  Oh,  how  long  since  she 
had  seen  it ! 

Ruth  heeded  neither  the  jostling  of  office-boys,  porters, 
or  draymen,  as  she  held  out  her  eager  hand  for  the  letter. 
Thrusting  it  hastily  in  her  pocket,  she  hurried  in  breathless 
haste  back  to  her  lodgings.  The  contents  were  as  fol 
lows: 

"  I  have  looked  over  the  pieces  you  sent  me,  Ruth.  It 
is  very  evident  that  writing  never  can  be  your  forte  ;  you 
have  no  talent  that  way.  You  may  possibly  be  employed 
by  some  inferior  newspapers,  but  be  assured  your  articles 


222  RUTH       HALL. 

never  will  be  heard  of  out  of  your  own  little  provincial 
city.  For  myself  I  have  plenty  of  contributors,  nor  do 
I  know  of  any  of  my  literary  acquaintances  who  would 
employ  you.  I  would  advise  you,  therefore,  to  seek 
some  unobtrusive  employment.  Your  brother, 

"  HYACINTH  ELLET." 

A  bitter  smile  struggled  with  the  hot  tear  that  fell 
upon  Kuth's  cheek.  "  I  have  tried  the  unobtrusive  em 
ployment,"  said  Ruth ;  "  the  wages  are  six  cents  a  day, 
Hyacinth  ;"  and  again  the  bitter  smile  disfigured  her  gen 
tle  lip. 

"  No  talent !" 

"  At  another  tribunal  than  his  will  I  appeal." 

"  Never  be  heard  of  out  of  my  own  little  provincial  city !" 
The  cold,  contemptuous  tone  stung  her. 

"But  they  shall  be  heard  of ;"  and  Ruth  leaped  to 
her  feet.  "  Sooner  than  he  dreams  of,  too.  I  can  do 
it,  I  feel  it,  I  will  do  it,"  and  she  closed  her  lips 
firmly ;  "  but  there  will  be  a  desperate  struggle  first," 
and  she  clasped  her  hands  over  her  heart  as  if  it 
had  already  commenced ;  "  there  will  be  scant  meals, 
and  sleepless  nights,  and  weary  days,  and  a  throb 
bing  brow,  and  an  aching  heart ;  there  will  be  the  chilling 
tone,  the  rude  repulse ;  there  will  be  ten  backward  steps 
to  one  forward.  Pride  must  sleep!  but — "  and  Ruth 
glanced  at  her  childrer — "it  shall  be  done.  They  shall 


RUTH       HALL.  223 

be  proud  of  their  mother.  Hyacinth  shall  yet  be  proud 
to  claim  his  sister" 

"  What  is  it,  mamma  1"  asked  Katy,  looking  wonder- 
ingly  at  the  strange  expression  of  her  mother's  face. 

"  What  is  it,  my  darling  T'  and  Ruth  caught  up  the 
child  with  convulsive  energy  ;  "  what  is  it  ?  only  that 
when  you  are  a  woman  you  shall  remember  this  day,  my 
little  pet ;"  and  as  she  kissed  Katy's  upturned  brow  a 
bright  spot  burned  on  her  cheek,  and  her  eye  glowed  like 
a  star. 


CHAPTER    LYII. 


"  TjOCTOB  F  said  Mrs.  Hall,  "  put  down  that  book, 
will  you  ?  I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  bit  ;  there 
you  Ve  sat  these  three  hours,  without  stirring,  except  to 
brush  the  flies  off  your  nose,  and  my  tongue  actually 
aches  keeping  still." 

"Sh-sh-sh,"  said  the  doctor,  running  his  forefinger 
along  to  guide  his  purblind  eyes  safely  to  the  end  of  the 
paragraph.  "  Sh-sh.  '  It — is  es-ti-ma-ted  by  Captain  Smith 
— that — there — are — up'ards— of — ten — hundred — human 
— critters — in — the — Nor- West — sett-le-ment.'  Well— 
Mis.  Hall — well — "  said  the  doctor,  laying  a  faded  rib 
bon  mark  between  the  leaves  of  the  book,  and  pushing 
his  spectacles  back  on  his  forehead,  "  what 's  to  pay  now  ? 
what  do  you  want  of  me  ?" 

"  I  Ve  a  great  mind  as  ever  I  had  to  eat,"  said  the  old 
lady,  pettishly,  "  to  knit  twice  round  the  heel  of  this 
stocking,  before  I  answer  you ;  what  do  you  think  I  care 


RUTH       HALL.  225 

about  Captain  Smith  1  Travelers  always  lie ;  it  is  a  part 
of  their  trade,  and  if  they  don't  it 's  neither  here  nor  there 
to  me.  I  wish  that  book  was  in  the  Red  Sea." 

"  I  thought  you  did  n't  want  it  read?  retorted  the  irri 
tating  old  doctor. 

"  Now  I  suppose  you  call  that  funny,"  said  the  old 
lady.  "  I  call  it  simply  ridiculous  for  a  man  of  your 
years  to  play  on  words  in  such  a  frivolous  manner. 
What  I  was  going  to  say  was  this,  i.  e.  if  I  can  get  a 
chance  to  say  it,  if  you  have  given  up  all  idea  of  getting 
Harry's  children,  /  have  n't,  and  now  is  the  time  to  ap 
ply  for  Katy  again ;  for,  according  to  all  accounts,  Ruth 
is  getting  along  poorly  enough." 

"  How  did  you  hear  1"  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Why,  my  milliner,  Miss  TilFkins,  has  a  nephew  who 
tends  in  a  little  grocery-shop  near  where  Ruth  boards, 
and  he  says  that  she  buys  a  smaller  loaf  every  time  she 
comes  to  the  store,  and  that  the  milkman  told  him  that 
she  only  took  a  pint  of  milk  a  day  of  him  now ;  then 
Katy  has  not  been  well,  and  what  she  did  for  doctors  and 
medicines  is  best  known  to  herself;  she  's  so  independent 
that  she  never  would  complain  if  she  had  to  eat  paving 
stones.  The  best  way  to  get  the  child  will  be  to  ask  her 
here  on  a  visit,  and  say  we  want  to  cure  her  up  a  little 
with  country  air.  You  understand  1  that  will  throw  dust 
in  Ruth's  eyes,  and  then  we  will  take  our  own  time  about 
letting  her  go  back  you  know.  Miss  Tiffkins  says  her 


226  RUTH       HALL. 

nephew  says  that  people  who  come  into  the  grocery-shop 
are  very  curious  to  know  who  Ruth  is ;  and  old  Mr. 
Flake,  who  keeps  it,  says  that  it  would  n't  hurt  her  any,  if 
she  is  a  lady,  to  stop  and  talk  a  little,  like  the  rest  of  his 
customers ;  he  says,  too,  that  her  children  are  as  close- 
mouthed  as  their  mother,  for  when  he  just  asked  Katy 
what  business  her  father  used  to  do,  and  what  supported 
them  now  he  was  dead,  and  if  they  lived  all  the  time  on 
bread  and  milk,  and  a  few  such  little  questions,  Katy 
answered,  '  Mamma  does  not  allow  me  to  talk  to  stran 
gers,'  and  went  out  of  the  shop,  with  her  loaf  of  bread, 
as  dignified  as  a  little  duchess." 

"  Like  mother,  like  child,"  said  the  doctor  ;  "  proud 
and  poor,  proud  and  poor;  that  tells  the  whole  story. 
Well,  shall  I  write  to  Ruth,  Mis.  Hall,  about  Katy  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  let  me  manage  that ;  you 
will  upset  the  whole  business  if  you  do.  I  Ve  a  plan  in 
my  head,  and  to-morrow,  after  breakfast,  I  '11  take  the  old 
chaise,  and  go  in  after  Katy." 

In  pursuance  of  this  plan,  the  old  lady,  on  the  following 
day,  climbed  up  into  an  old-fashioned  chaise,  and  turned 
the  steady  old  horse's  nose  in  the  direction  of  the  city ; 
jerking  at  the  reins,  and  clucking  and  gee-ing  him  up, 
after  the  usual  awkward  fashion  of  sexegenarian  female 
drivers.  Using  Miss  Tiffkin's  land-mark,  the  little  black 
grocery-shop,  for  a  guide-board,  she  soon  discovered 
Ruth's  abode ;  and  so  well  did  she  play  her  part  in  com- 


RUTH       HALL.  227 

miserating  Ruth's  misfortunes,  and  Katy's  sickly  appear 
ance,  that  the  widow's  kind  heart  was  immediately  tor 
tured  with  the  most  unnecessary  self-reproaches,  which 
prepared  the  way  for  an  acceptance  of  her  invitation  for 
Katy  "  for  a  week  or  two  ;"  great  promises,  meanwhile, 
being  held  out  to  the  child  of  "  a  little  pony  to  ride,"  and 
various  other  tempting  lures  of  the  same  kind.  Still 
little  Katy  hesitated,  clinging  tightly  to  her  mother's 
dress,  and  looking,  with  her  clear,  searching  eyes,  into  her 
grandmother's  face,  in  a  way  thatwould  have  embarrassed 
a  less  artful  manoeuverer.  The  old  lady  understood  the 
glance,  and  put  it  on  file,  to  be  attended  to  at  her  leisure ; 
it  being  no  part  of  her  present  errand  to  play  the  unaiui- 
able.  Little  Katy,  finally  won  over,  consented  to  make 
the  visit,  and  the  old  chaise  was  again  set  in  motion  for 
home. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 


d'ye  do,  Ruth?"  asked  Mr.  Ellet,  the  next 
morning,  as  he  ran  against  Ruth  in  the  street; 
"  glad  you  have  taken  my  advice,  and  done  a  sensible 
thing  at  last." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  answered  Ruth. 

"  Why,  the  doctor  told  me  yesterday  that  you  had 
given  Katy  up  to  them,  to  bring  up ;  you  would  have 
done  better  if  you  had  sent  off  Nettie  too." 

"  I  have  not  '  given  Katy  up,'  "  said  Ruth,  starting  and 
blushing  deeply ;  "  and  they  could  not  have  understood  it 
so ;  she  has  only  gone  on  a  visit  of  a  fortnight,  to  recruit 
a  little." 

"Pooh— pooh!"  replied  Mr.  Ellct,  "The  thing  is 
quietly  over  with  ;  now  don't  make  a  fuss.  The  old  folks 
expect  to  keep  her.  They  wrote  to  me  about  it,  and  I 
approved  of  it.  It 's  the  best  thing  all  round ;  and,  as  I 
just  said,  it  would  have  been  better  still  if  Nettie  had 


RUTH       HALL.  229 

gone,  too.  Now  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself;  you  can 
go  once  in  awhile,  I  suppose,  to  see  the  child." 

"  How  can  I  go  ?"  asked  Ruth,  looking  her  father  calmly 
in  the  face  ;  "  it  costs  fifty  cents  every  trip,  by  railroad, 
and  you  know  I  have  not  the  money." 

"  That 's  for  you  to  decide,"  answered  the  father  coldly  ; 
"  I  can't  be  bothered  about  such  trifles.  It  is  the  way  you 
always  do,  Ruth,  whenever  I  see  you ;  but  it  is  time  I  was 
at  my  office.  Don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself,  now  ;  mind 
what  I  tell  you,  and  let  well  alone." 

"  Father,"  said  Ruth;  "  father — " 

"  Can't  stop — can't  stop,"  said  Mr.  Ellet,  moving  rap 
idly  down  street,  to  get  out  of  his  daughter's  way. 

"  Can  it  be  possible,"  thought  Ruth,  looking  after  him, 
':  that  he  could  connive  at  such  duplicity  ?  Was  the  old 
lady's  sympathy  a  mere  stratagem  to  work  upon  my 
feelings'?  How  unnecessarily  I  reproached  myself  with 
my  supposed  injustice  to  her  ?  Can  good  people  do  such 
things  ?  Is  religion  only  a  fable  ?  No,  no ;  '  let  God  be 
true,  and  every  man  a  liar.'  " 


CHAPTER  LIX 


*TS  this  'The  Daily  Type'  office?"  asked  Kuth  of  a 
printer's  boy,  who  was  rushing  down  five  steps  at  a 
time,  with  an  empty  pail  in  his  hand. 

"  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  ask,  mem.  You  Ve  got  a 
tongue  in  your  head,  have  n't  ye  ?  women  folks  generally 
has,"  said  the  little  ruffian. 

Ruth,  obeying  this  civil  invitation,  knocked  gently  at 
the  office  door.  A  whir  of  machinery,  and  a  bad  odor 
of  damp  paper  and  cigar  smoke,  issued  through  the  half- 
open  crack. 

"  I  shall  have  to  walk  in,"  said  Euth,  "  they  never  will 
hear  my  feeble  knock  amid  all  this  racket  and  bustle ;" 
and  pushing  the  door  ajar,  she  found  herself  in  the  midst 
of  a  group  of  smokers,  who,  in  slippered  feet,  and  with 
heels  higher  than  their  heads,  were  w^hiffing  and  laughing, 
amid  the  pauses  of  conversation,  most  uproariously. 
Ruth's  face  crimsoned  as  heels  and  cigars  remained  in 
statu  quo,  and  her  glance  was  met  by  a  rude  stare. 


RUTH       HALL.  231 

"  I  called  to  see  if  you  would  like  a  new  contributor  to 
your  paper,"  said  Ruth ;  "  if  so,  I  will  leave  a  few  samples 
of  my  articles  for  your  inspection." 

"  What  do  you  say,  Bill  ?"  said  the  person  addressed  ; 
"  drawer  full  as  usual,  I  suppose,  is  n't  it  ?  more  chaff  than 
wheat,  too,  I  '11  swear ;  don't  want  any,  ma'am  ;  come 
now,  J  o,  let 's  hear  the  rest  of  that  story  ;  shut  the  door, 
ma'am,  if  you  please." 

"  Are  you  the  editor  of  the  '  Parental  Guide '  f  said 
Ruth,  to  a  thin,  cadaverous-looking  gentleman,  in  a  white 
neck-cloth,  and  green  spectacles,  whose  editorial  sanctum 
was  not  far  from  the  office  she  had  just  left. 

"  I  am." 

"  Do  you  employ  contributors  for  your  paper  ?" 

"  Sometimes." 

"  Shall  I  leave  you  this  MS.  for  your  inspection,  sir  ?" 

"  Just  »fl  you  please." 

"  Have  you  a  copy  of  your  paper  here,  sir,  from  which 
I  could  judge  what  style  of  articles  you  prefer  ?" 

At  this,  the  gentleman  addressed  raised  his  eyes  for 
Uie  first  time,  wheeled  his  editorial  arm-chair  round, 
facing  Ruth,  and  peering  over  his  green  spectacles,  re 
marked  : 

"  Our  paper,  madam,  is  most  em-phat-i-cal-ly  a  paper 
devoted  to  the  interests  of  religion ;  no  frivolous  jests, 
no  love-sick  ditties,  no  fashionable  sentimentalism,  finds  a 


232  RUTH       HALL. 

place  in  its  columns.  This  is  a  serious  world,  madam, 
and  it  ill  becomes  those  who  are  born  to  die,  to  go 
dancing  through  it.  Josephus  remarks  that  the  Saviour 
of  the  world  was  never  known  to  smile.  /  seldom  smile. 
Are  you  a  religious  woman,  madam  ?" 

"  I  endeavor  to  become  so,"  answered  Ruth. 

"  V-e-r-y  good ;  what  sect  ?" 

"  Presbyterian." 

At  this  the  white  neck-clothed  gentleman  moved  back 
his  chair :  "  Wrong,  madam,  all  wrong ;  I  was  educated  by 
the  best  of  fathers,  but  he  was  not  a  Presbyterian  ;  his 
son  is  not  a  Presbyterian ;  his  son's  paper  sets  its  face 
like  a  flint  against  that  heresy;  no,  madam,  we  shall 
have  no  occasion  for  your  contributions  ;  a  hope  built  on 
a  Presbyterian  foundation,  is  built  on  the  sand.  Good 
morning,  madam." 

Did  Ruth  despair  1  No !  but  the  weary  little  feet 
which  for  so  many  hours  had  kept  pace  with  hers,  needed 
a  reprieve.  Little  Nettie  must  go  home,  and  Ruth  must 
read  the  office  signs  as  she  went  along,  to  prepare  for 
new  attempts  on  the  morrow. 

To-morrow1?  Would  a  brighter  morrow  ever  come? 
Ruth  thought  of  her  children,  and  said  again  with  a 
strong  heart — it  will ;  and  taking  little  Netty  upon  her  lap 
she  divided  with  her  their  frugal  supper — a  scanty  bowl 
of  bread  and  milk. 


RUTH       HALL.  233 

Ruth  could  not  but  acknowledge  to  herself  that  she 
had  thus  far  met  with  but  poor  encouragement,  but  she 
knew  that  to  climb,  she  must  begin  at  the  lowest  round 
of  the  ladder.  It  were  useless  to  apply  to  a  long-estab 
lished  leading  paper  for  employment,  unless  endorsed  by 
some  influential  name.  Her  brother  had  coolly,  almost 
contemptuously,  set  her  aside ;  and  yet  in  the  very  last 
number  of  his  Magazine,  which  accident  threw  in  her 
way,  he  pleaded  for  public  favor  for  a  young  actress,  whom 
he  said  had  been  driven  by  fortune  from  the  sheltered  pri 
vacy  of  home,  to  earn  her  subsistence  upon  the  stage, 
and  whose  earnest,  strong-souled  nature,  he  thought, 
should  meet  with  a  better  welcome  than  mere  curiosity. 
"  Oh,  why  not  one  word  for  me  ?"  thought  Ruth ;  "  and 
how  can  I  ask  of  strangers  a  favor  which  a  brother's 
heart  has  so  coldly  refused  V 

It  was  very  disagreeable  applying  to  the  small  papers, 
many  of  the  editors  of  which,  accustomed  to  dealing 
with  hoydenish  contributors,  were  incapable  of  compre 
hending  that  their  manner  towards  Ruth  had  been 
marked  by  any  want  of  that  respectful  courtesy  due  to  a 
dignified  woman.  From  all  such  contact  Ruth  shrank 
sensitively  ;  their  free-and-easy  tone  fell  upon  her  ear  so 
painfully,  as  often  to  bring  the  tears  to  her  eyes.  Oh, 
if  Harry — but  she  must  not  think  of  him. 

The   next   day  Ruth   wandered    about    the    business 


234  RUTH      HALL. 

streets,  looking  into  office-entries,  reading  signs,  and  try 
ing  to  gather  from  their  "  know-nothing  "  hieroglyphics, 
some  light  to  illumine  her  darkened  pathway.  Day  after 
day  chronicled  only  repeated  failures,  and  now,  notwith 
standing  she  had  reduced  their  already  meagre  fare,  her 
purse  was  nearly  empty. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


TT  was  a  warm,  sultry  Sabbath  morning  ;  not  a  breath 
of  air  played  over  the  heated  roofs  of  the  great, 
swarming  city.  Ruth  sat  in  her  little,  close  attic,  lean 
ing  her  head  upon  her  hand,  weary,  languid  and  dejected. 
Life  seemed  to  her  scarce  worth  the  pains  to  keep  its 
little  flame  flickering.  A  dull  pain  was  in  her  temples, 
a  heavy  weight  upon  her  heart.  Other  Sabbaths,  happy 
Sabbaths,  came  up  to  her  remembrance  ;  earth  looked  so 
dark  to  her  now,  heaven  so  distant,  God's  ways  so  in 
scrutable. 

Hark  to  the  Sabbath-bell ! 

Ruth  took  little  Nettie  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  slowly 
to  church.  Other  families,  unbroken  families,  passed  her 
on  their  way ;  families  whose  sunny  thresholds  the  de 
stroying  angel  had  never  crossed.  Oh  why  the  joy  to 
them,  the  pain  to  her  1  Sadly  she  entered  the  church, 
and  took  her  accustomed  seat  amid  the  worshippers. 


236  RUTH      HALL- 

The  man  of  God  opened  the  holy  book.  Sweet  and  clear 
fell  upon  Ruth's  troubled  ear  these  blessed  words  : 
"There  remaineth,  therefore,  a  rest  for  the  people  of 
God." 

The  blissf  the  joy  of  heaven  was  pictured ;  life, — mys 
terious,  crooked,  unfathomable  life,  made  clear  to  the  eye 
of  faith ;  sorrow,  pain,  suffering,  ignominy  even,  made 
sweet  for  His  sake,  who  suffered  all  for  us. 

Ruth  weeps !  weeps  that  her  faith  was  for  an  instant 
o'erclouded ;  weeps  that  she  shrank  from  breasting  the 
foaming  waves  at  the  bidding  of  Him  who  said,  "  It  is  I, 
be  not  afraid."  And  she,  who  came  there  fluttering  with 
a  broken  wing,  went  away  singing,  soaring. 

Oh  man  of  God  !  pressed  down  with  many  cares,  anx 
ious  and  troubled,  sowing  but  not  reaping,  fearing  to 
bring  in  no  sheaves  for  the  harvest,  be  of  good  cour 
age.  The  arrow  shot  at  a  venture  may  to  thine  eye  fall 
aimless ;  but  in  the  Book  of  Life  shalt  thou  read  many 
an  answer  to  the  wrestling  prayer,  heard  in  thy  closet 
by  God  alone. 


CHAPTER    LXI. 

"  "MINE  day,  Mr.  Ellet,"  said  a  country  clergyman  to 
Ruth's  father,  as  he  sat  comfortably  ensconced  in 
his  counting-room.  "  I  don't  see  but  you  look  as  young 
as  you  did  when  I  saw  you  five  years  ago.  Life  has 
gone  smoothly  with  you ;  you  have  been  remarkably 
prospered  in  business,  Mr.  Ellet." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  who  was  inordi 
nately  fond  of  talking  of  himself;  "  yes,  yes,  I  may  say 
that,  though  I  came  into  Massachusetts  a-foot,  with  a  loaf 
of  bread  and  a  sixpence,  and  now, — well,  not  to  boast,  I 
own  this  house,  and  the  land  attached,  beside  my  country- 
seat,  and  have  a  nice  little  sum  stowed  away  in  the  bank 
for  a  rainy  day ;  yes,  Providence  has  smiled  on  my  en 
terprise  ;  my  affairs  are,  as  you  say,  in  a  very  prosper 
ous  condition.  I  hope  religion  flourishes  in  your  church, 
brother  Clark." 

"  Dead — dead — dead,  as  the  valley  of  dry  bones,"  re 
plied  Mr.  Clark  with  a  groan.  "  I  have  been  trying  to 
;  get  up  a  reA,  ival  ;'  but  Satan  reigns — Satan  reigns,  and 


238  RUTH       HALL. 

the  right  arm  of  the  church  seems  paralysed.  Sometimes 
I  think  the  stumbling-block  is  the  avaricious  and  money- 
grabbing  spirit  of  its  professors." 

"  Very  likely,"  answered  Mr.  Ellet ;  "  there  is  a  great 
deal  too  much  of  that  in  the  church.  I  alluded  to  it  my 
self,  in  my  remarks  at  the  last  church-meeting.  I  called 
it  the  accursed  thing,  the  Achan  in  the  camp,  the  Jonah 
which  was  to  hazard  the  Lord's  Bethel,  and  I  humbly 
hope  my  remarks  were  blessed.  I  understand  from  the 
last  Monthly  Concert,  brother  Clark,  that  there  are  good 
accounts  from  the  Sandwich  Islands ;  twenty  heathen  ad 
mitted  to  the  church  in  one  day  ;  good  news  that." 

"  Yes,"  groaned  brother  Clark,  to  whose  blurred  vision 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  was  always  clouded  ;  "  yes,  but 
think  how  many  more  are  still,  and  always  will  be, 
worshipping  idols ;  think  how  long  it  takes  a  missionary 
to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  language ;  and  think  how 
many,  just  as  they  become  perfected  in  it,  die  of  the  cli 
mate,  or  are  killed  by  the  natives,  leaving  their  helpless 
young  families  to  burden  the  '  American  Board.'  Very 
sad,  brother  Ellet ;  sometimes,  when  I  think  of  all  this 
outlay  of  money  and  human  lives,  and  so  little  accom 
plished,  I — "  (here  a  succession  of  protracted  sneezes 
prevented  Mr.  Clark  from  finishing  the  sentence.) 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Ellet,  coming  to  the  rescue ;  "  but  if 
only  one  heathen  had  been  saved,  there  would  be  joy  for 
ever  in  heaven.  He  who  saveth  a  soul  from  death,  you 


RUTH       HALL.  239 

know,  hideth  a  multitude  of  sins.  I  think  I  spoke  a  word 
in  season,  the  other  day,  which  has  resulted  in  one  admis 
sion,  at  least,  to  our  church." 

"  It  is  to  be  hoped  the  new  member  will  prove  stead 
fast,"  said  the  well-meaning  but  hypochondriac  brother 
Clark,  with  another  groan.  "  Many  a  hopeful  convert 
goes  back  to  the  world,  and  the  last  state  of  that  soul  is 
worse  than  the  first.  Dreadful,  dreadful.  I  am  heart 
sick,  brother  Ellet." 

"  Come,"  said  Ruth's  father,  tapping  him  on  the 
shoulder  ;  ':  dinner  is  ready,  will  you  sit  down  with  us  ? 
First  salmon  of  the  season,  green  peas,  boiled  fowl, 
oysters,  &c. ;  your  country  parishioners  don't  feed  you 
that  way,  I  suppose." 

"N — o,"  said  brother  Clark,  "no;  there  is  no  verse 
in  the  whole  Bible  truer,  or  more  dishonored  in  the  ob 
servance,  than  this,  '  The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire.' 
I  '11  stay  to  dinner,  brother  Ellet.  You  have,  I  bless  God, 
a  warm  heart  and  a  liberal  one  ;  your  praise  is  in  all  the 
churches." 

A  self-satisfied  smile  played  round  the  lips  of  Ruth's 
father,  at  this  tribute  to  his  superior  sanctity  ;  and,  seating 
himself  at  the  well-spread  table,  he  uttered  an  unusually 
lengthy  grace. 


"  Some  more  supper,  please,  Mamma,"  vainly  pleaded 
little  Nettie. 


CHAPTER   LXII. 


"D  UTH  had  found  employment,  Ruth's  MSS.  had  been 
•*•*  accepted  at  the  office  of  "  The  Standard."  Yes,  an 
article  of  hers  was  to  be  published  in  the  very  next  issue. 
The  remuneration  was  not  what  Ruth  had  hoped,  but  it 
was  at  least  a  beginning.,  a  stepping-stone.  What  a  pity 
that  Mr.  Lescom's  (the  editor's)  rule  was,  not  to  pay  a 
contributor,  even  after  a  piece  was  accepted,  until  it  was 
printed — and  Ruth  so  short  of  funds.  Could  she  hold  out 
to  work  so  hard,  and  fare  so  rigidly  ?  for  often  there  was 
only  a  crust  left  at  night ;  but,  God  be  thanked,  she 
should  now  earn  that  crust !  It  was  a  pity  that  oil  was 
so  dear,  too,  because  most  of  her  writing  must  be  done 
at  night,  when  Nettie's  little  prattling  voice  was  hushed, 
and  her  innumerable  little  wants  forgotten  in  sleep.  Yes, 
it  was  a  pity  that  good  oil  was  so  dear,  for  the  cheaper 
kind  crusted  so  soon  on  the  wick,  and  Ruth's  eyes,  from 
excessive  weeping,  had  become  quite  tender,  and  often 
very  painful.  Then  it  would  be  so  mortifying  should  a 


RUTH       HALL.  241 

mistake  occur  in  one  of  her  articles.  She  must  write  very 
legibly,  for  type-setters  were  sometimes  sad  bunglers, 
making  people  accountable  for  words  that  would  set  Wor 
cester's  or  Webster's  hair  on  end  ;  but,  poor  things,  they 
worked  hard  too — they  had  their  sorrows,  thinking,  long 
into  the  still  night,  as  they  scattered  the  types,  more  of 
their  dependent  wives  and  children,  than  of  the  orthog 
raphy  of  a  word,  or  the  rhetoric  of  a  sentence. 

Scratch — scratch — scratch,  went  Ruth's  pen  ;  the  dim 
lamp  flickering  in  the  night  breeze,  while  the  deep  breath 
ing  of  the  little  sleepers  was  the  watchword,  On !  to 
her  throbbing  brow  and  weary  fingers.  One  o'clock — 
two  o'clock — three  o'clock — the  lamp  burns  low  in  the 
socket.  Ruth  lays  down  her  pen,  and  pushing  back  the 
hair  from  her  forehead,  leans  faint  and  exhausted  against 
the  window-sill,  that  the  cool  night-air  may  fan  her  heated 
temples.  How  impressive  the  stillness !  Ruth  can 
almost  hear  her  own  heart  beat.  She  looks  upward,  and 
the  watchful  stars  seem  to  her  like  the  eyes  of  gentle 
friends.  No,  God  would  not  forsake  her !  A  sweet 
peace  steals  into  her  troubled  heart,  and  the  overtasked 
lids  droop  heavily  over  the  weary  eyes. 

Ruth  sleeps. 


Daylight !     Morning  so  soon  ?     All   night   Ruth   has 

leaned  with  her  head  on  the  window-sill,  and  now  she 
11 


242  RUTH       HALL. 

wakes  unrefreshed  from  the  constrained  posture  ;  but  she 
has  no  time  to  heed  that,  for  little  Nettie  lies  moaning  in 
her  bed  with  pain  ;  she  lifts  the  little  creature  in  her  lap, 
rocks  her  gently,  and  kisses  her  cheek ;  but  still  little 
Nettie  moans.  Ruth  goes  to  the  drawer  and  looks  in 
her  small  purse  (Harry's  gift) ;  it  is  empty !  then  she 
clasps  her  hands  and  looks  again  at  little  Nettie.  Must 
Nettie  die  for  want  of  care  ?  Oh,  if  Mr.  Lescom  would 
only  advance  her  the  money  for  the  contributions  he  had 
accepted,  but  he  said  so  decidedly  that  "  it  was  a  rule  he 
never  departed  from  ;"  and  there  were  yet  five  long  days 
before  the  next  paper  would  be  out.  Five  days  !  what 
might  not  happen  to  Nettie  in  five  days  ?  There  was  her 
cousin,  Mrs.  Millet,  but  she  had  muffled  her  furniture  in 
linen  wrappers,  and  gone  to  the  springs  with  her  family, 
for  the  summer  months ;  there  was  her  father,  but  had 
he  not  said  "  Remember,  if  you  will  burden  yourself  with 
your  children,  you  must  not  look  to  me  for  help."  Kiss 
ing  little  Nettie's  cheek  she  lays  her  gently  on  the  bed, 
whispering  in  a  husky  voice,  "  only  a  few  moments,  Net 
tie;  mamma  will  be  back  soon."  She  closes  the  door 
upon  the  sick  child,  and  stands  with  her  hand  upon  her 
bewildered  brow,  thinking. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam ;  the  entry  is  so  very  dark 
I  did  not  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Bond ;  "  you  are  as  early  a 
riser  as  myself." 


RUTH       HALL.  243 

"  My  child  is  sick,"  answered  Ruth,  tremulously;  "I 
was  just  going  out  for  medicine." 

"  If  you  approve  of  Homoeopathy,"  said  Mr.  Bond, 
"and  will  trust  me  to  prescribe,  there  will  be  no  neces 
sity  for  your  putting  yourself  to  that  trouble  ;  I  always 
treat  myself  liomccopathically  in  sickness,  and  happen  to 
have  a  small  supply  of  those  medicines  by  me/' 

Ruth's  natural  independence  revolted  at  the  idea  of 
receiving  a  favor  from  a  stranger. 

'•  Perhaps  you  disapprove  of  Ilomceopathv,"  said  Mr. 
Bond,  mistaking  the  cause  of  her  momentary  hesitation ; 
*•  it  works  like  a  charm  with  children  ;  but  if  you  prefer 
not  to  try  it,  allow  me  to  go  out  and  procure  you  what 
ever  you  desire  in  the  way  of  medicine  ;  you  will  not 
then  be  obliged  to  leave  your  child/' 

Here  was  another  dilemma — what  should  Ruth  do  1 
Why,  clearly  accept  his  first  offer ;  there  was  an  air  of 
goodness  and  sincerity  about  him,  which,  added  to  his 
years,  seemed  to  invite  her  confidence. 

Mr.  Bond  stepped  in,  looked  at  Nettie,  and  felt  her 
pulse.  "  Ah,  little  one,  we  will  soon  have  you  better," 
said  he,  as  he  left  the  room  to  obtain  his  little  package 
of  medicines. 

';  Thank  you,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  grateful  smile,  as  he 
administered  to  Nettie  some  infinitesimal  pills. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Bond.  ''I  learned  two 
years  since  to  doctor  myself  in  this  way,  and  I  have  of- 


244  RUTH       HALL. 

ten  had  the  pleasure  of  relieving  others  in  emergencies 
like  this,  from  my  little  Homoeopathic  stores.  You  will 
find  that  your  little  girl  will  soon  fall  into  a  sweet  sleep, 
and  awake  much  relieved ;  if  you  are  careful  with  her, 
she  will,  I  think,  need  nothing  more  in  the  way  of  medi 
cine,  or  if  she  should,  my  advice  is  quite  at  your  ser 
vice  ;"  and,  taking  his  pitcher  of  water  in  his  hand,  he 
bowed  respectfully,  and  wished  Ruth  good  morning. 

Who  was  he  1  what  was  he  ?  Whir — whir — there 
was  the  noise  again !  That  he  was  a  man  of  refined  and 
courteous  manners,  was  very  certain.  Ruth  felt  glad  he 
was  so  much  her  senior ;  he  seemed  so  like  what  Ruth 
had  sometimes  dreamed  a  kind  father  might  be,  that  it 
lessened  the  weight  of  the  obligation.  Already  little 
Nettie  had  ceased  moaning ;  her  little  lids  began  to  droop, 
and  her  skin,  which  had  been  hot  and  feverish,  became 
moist  and  cool.  "  May  God  reward  him,  whoever  he 
may  be,"  said  Ruth.  "  Surely  it  is  blessed  to  trust  /" 


CHAPTER  IXIII. 

TT  was  four  o'clock  of  a  hot  August  afternoon  The 
L  sun  had  crept  round  to  the  front  piazza  of  the  doctor's 
cottage.  No  friendly  trees  warded  off  his  burning  rays, 
for  the  doctor  "  liked  a  prospect ;"  i.  e.  he  liked  to  sit  at 
the  window  and  count  the  different  trains  which  whizzed 
past  in  the  course  of  the  day ;  the  number  of  wagons, 
and  gigs,  and  carriages,  that  rolled  lazily  up  the  hill ;  to 
see  the  village  engine,  the  '•  Cataract,"  drawn  out  on  the 
green  for  its  weekly  ablutions,  and  to  count  the  bundles 
of  shingles  that  it  took  to  roof  over  Squire  Ruggles' 
new  barn.  No  drooping  vines,  therefore,  or  creepers,  in 
truded  between  him  and  this  pleasant  ';  prospect/'  The 
doctor  was  an  utilitarian ;  he  could  see  "  no  use"  in  such 
things,  save  to  rot  timber  and  harbor  vermin.  So  a  won 
drous  glare  of  white  paint,  (carefully  renewed  every 
spring,)  blinded  the  traveler  whose  misfortune  it  was  to 


246  RUTH       HALL. 

pass  the  road  by  the  doctor's  house.  As  I  said,  it  was 
now  four  o'clock.  The  twelve  o'clock  dinner  was  long 
since  over.  The  Irish  girl  had  rinsed  out  her  dish-towels, 
hung  them  out  the  back  door  to  dry,  and  gone  down  to 
the  village  store  to  buy  some  new  ribbons  advertised  as 
selling  at  an  "  immense  sacrifice"  by  the  disinterested 
village  shopkeeper. 

Let  us  peep  into  the  doctor's  sitting  room  ;  the  air  of 
this  room  is  close  and  stifled,  for  the  windows  must  be 
tightly  closed,  lest  some  audacious  fly  should  make  his 
mark  on  the  old  lady's  immaculate  walls.  A  centre 
table  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  with  a  copy  of 
"The  Eeligious  Pilot,"  last  year's  Almanac,  A  Di 
rectory,  and  "  The  remarkable  Escape  of  Eliza  Cook, 
who  was  partially  scalped  by  the  Indians."  On  one  side 
of  the  room  hangs  a  piece  of  framed  needle-work,  by  the 
virgin  fingers  of  the  old  lady,  representing  an  unhappy 
female,  weeping  over  a  very  high  and  very  perpendicular 
tombstone,  which  is  hieroglyphiced  over  with  untrans- 
lateable  characters  in  red  worsted,  while  a  few  herbs,  not 
mentioned  by  botanists,  are  struggling  for  existence  at 
its  base.  A  friendly  willow-tree,  of  a  most  extraordi 
nary  shade  of  blue  green,  droops  in  sympathy  over  the 
afflicted  female,  while  a  nondescript  looking  bird,  re 
sembling  a  dropsical  bull-frog,  suspends  his  song  and  one 
leg,  in  the  foreground.  It  was  principally  to  preserve 


RUTH       HALL.  247 

this  chef-d'oeuvre  of  art,  that  the  windows  were  hermeti 
cally  sealed  to  the  entrance  of  vagrant  flies. 

The  old  doctor,  with  his  spectacles  awry  and  his  hands 
drooping  listlessly  at  his  side,  snored  from  the  depths  of 
his  arm-chair,  while  opposite  him  the  old  lady,  peering 
out  from  behind  a  very  stifly-starched  cap  border,  was 
"  seaming,"  "  widening,"  and  "  narrowing,"  with  a  precis 
ion  and  perseverance  most  painful  to  witness.  Outside, 
the  bee  hummed,  the  robin  twittered,  the  shining  leaves  of 
the  village  trees  danced  and  whispered  to  the  shifting 
clouds ;  the  free,  glad  breeze  swept  the  tall  meadow-grass, 
and  the  village  children,  as  free  and  fetterless,  danced  and 
shouted  at  their  sports ;  but  there  sat  little  Katy,  with 
her  hands  crossed  in  her  lap,  as  she  had  sat  for  many  an 
hour,  listening  to  the  never-ceasing  click  of  her  grand 
mother's  needles,  and  the  sonorous  breathings  of  the 
doctor's  rubicund  nose.  Sometimes  she  moved  uneasily 
in  her  chair,  but  the  old  lady's  uplifted  finger  would  im 
mediately  remind  her  that  "  little  girls  must  be  seen  and 
not  heard."  It  was  a  great  thing  for  Katy  when  a  mouse 
scratched  on  the  wainscot,  or  her  grandmother's  ball 
rolled  out  of  her  lap,  giving  her  a  chance  to  stretch  her 
little  cramped  limbs.  And  now  the  village  bell  began  to 
toll,  with  a  low,  booming,  funereal  sound,  sending  a  cold 
shudder  through  the  child's  nervous  and  excited  frame. 
What  if  her  mother  should  die  way  off  in  the  city  1 
What  if  she  should  always  live  in  this  terrible  way  at  her 


248  RUTH       HALL. 

grandmother's  ?  with  nobody  to  love  her,  or  kiss  hert  or 
pat  her  little  head  kindly,  and  say,  "  Katy,  dear ;"  and 
again  the  bell  boomed  out  its  mournful  sound,  and  little 
Katy,  unable  longer  to  bear  the  torturing  thoughts  it 
called  up,  sobbed  aloud. 

It  was  all  in  vain,  that  the  frowning  old  lady  held  up 
her  warning  finger  ;  the  flood-gates  were  opened,  and  Katy 
could  not  have  stopped  her  tears  had  her  life  depended 
on  it. 

Hark !  a  knock  at  the  door !  a  strange  footstep  ! 

"Mother!"  shrieked  the  child  hysterically,  "mother!" 
and  flew  into  Euth's  sheltering  arms. 

"  What  shall  we  do,  doctor  ?"  asked  the  old  lady,  the 
day  after  Euth's  visit.  "  I  trusted  to  her  not  being  able 
to  get  the  money  to  come  out  here,  and  her  father,  I 
knew,  would  n't  give  it  to  her,  and  now  here  she  has 
walked  the  whole  distance,  with  Nettie  in  her  arms,  ex 
cept  a  lift  a  wagoner  or  two  gave  her  on  the  road ;  and  I 
verily  believe  she  would  have  done  it,  had  it  been  twice 
the  distance  it  is.  I  never  shall  be  able  to  bring  up  that 
child  according  to  my  notions,  while  she  is  round.  I  'd 
forbid  her  the  house,  (she  deserves  it,)  only  that  it  won't 
sound  well  if  she  tells  of  it.  And  to  think  of  that  un 
grateful  little  thing's  flying  into  her  mother's  arms  as  if 
she  was  in  the  last  extremity,  after  all  we  have  done  for 
her.  I  don't  suppose  Euth  would  have  left  her  with  us,  as 


RUTH       HALL.  249 

it  is,  if  she  had  the  bread  to  put  in  her  mouth.  She  might 
as  well  give  her  up,  though,  first  as  last,  for  she  never 
will  be  able  to  support  her." 

"She  's  fit  for  nothing  but  a  parlor  ornament,"  said  the 
doctor,  ';  never  was.     No  more  business  talent  in  Ruth 
Ellet,  than  there  is  in  that  chany  image  of  yours  on  the 
mantle-tree,  Mis.  Hall.     That  tells  the  whole  story." 
11* 


CHAPTER   LXIV. 


"  T  HAVE  good  news  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Lescom  to 

•*•  Kuth,  at  her  next  weekly  visit ;  "  your  very  first  arti 
cles  are  copied,  I  sea,  into  many  of  my  exchanges,  even 

into  the  ,  which  seldom  contains  anything  but 

politics.  A  good  sign  for  you  Mrs.  Hall ;  a  good  test  of 
your  popularity." 

Ruth's  eyes  sparkled,  and  her  whole  face  glowed. 

"  Ladies  like  to  be  praised,"  said  Mr.  Lescom,  good- 
humoredly,  with  a  mischievous  smile. 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  that — not  that,  sir,"  said  Ruth,  with  a 
sudden  moistening  of  the  eye,  "  it  is  because  it  will  be 
bread  for  my  children." 

Mr.  Lescom  checked  his  mirthful  mood,  and  said, 
'  Well,  here  is  something  good  for  me,  too ;  a  letter  from 
Missouri,  in  which  the  writer  says,  that  if  "  Floy  "  (a 
pretty  nom-de-plume  that  of  yours,  Mrs.  Hall)  is  to  be  a 
contributor  for  the  coming  year,  I  may  put  him  down  as 


R  U  T  II       HALL.  251 

a  subscriber,  as  well  as  S.  Jones,  E.  May,  and  J.  Noyes, 
{ill  of  the  same  place.  That 's  good  news  for  me,  you 
see,"  said  Mr.  Lescom,  with  one  of  his  pleasant,  beaming 
smiles. 

"  Yes,''  replied  Ruth,  abstractedly.  She  was  wondering 
if  her  articles  were  to  be  the  means  of  swelling  Mr.  Lcs- 
com's  subscription  list,  whether  she  ought  not  to  profit  by 
it  as  well  as  himself,  and  whether  she  should  not  ask  him 
to  increase  her  pay.  She  pulled  her  gloves  off  and  on, 
and  finally  mustered  courage  to  clothe  her  thought  in  words. 

'•  Now  that 's  just  like  a  woman,"  replied  Mr.  Lescom, 
turning  it  off  with  a  joke  ;  '-give  them  the  least  foot-hold, 
and  they  will  want  the  whole  territory.  Had  I  not 
shown  you  that  letter,  you  would  have  been  quite  con 
tented  with  your  present  pay.  Ah  !  I  see  it  won't  do  to 
talk  so  unprofessionally  to  you  ;  and  you  need  n't  expect," 
said  he,  smiling,  ';  that  I  shall  ever  speak  of  letters  con 
taining  new  subscribers  on  your  account.  I  could  easily 
got  you  the  offer  of  a  handsome  salary  by  publishing 
such  things.  No — no,  I  have  been  foolish  enough  to  lose 
two  or  three  valuable  contributors  in  that  way ;  I  have 
learned  better  than  that,  '  Floy' ;  "  and  taking  out  his 
purse,  he  paid  Ruth  the  usual  sum  for  her  articles. 

Ruth  bowed  courteously,  and  put  the  money  in  her 
purse ;  but  she  sighed  as  she  went  down  the  ofTk-3 
stairs.  Mr.  Lescom's  view  of  the  case  was  a  business 
one,  undoubtedly ;  and  the  same  view  that  almost  any 


252  RUTH     HALL. 

other  business  man  would  have  taken,  viz. :  to  retain 
her  at  her  present  low  rate  of  compensation,  till  he  was 
necessitated  to  raise  it  by  a  higher  bid  from  a  rival 
quarter.  And  so  she  must  plod  wearily  on  till  that  time 
came,  and  poor  Katy  must  still  be  an  exile  ;  for  she  had 
not  enough  to  feed  her,  her  landlady  having  raised  the 
rent  of  her  room  two  shillings,  and  Ruth  being  unable  to 
find  cheaper  accommodations.  It  was  hard,  but  what 
could  be  done  ?  Ruth  believed  she  had  exhausted  all  the 
offices  she  knew  of.  Oh  !  there  was  one,  "  The  Pilgrim ;" 
she  had  not  tried  there.  She  would  call  at  the  office  on 
her  way  home. 

The  editor  of  "The  Pilgrim"  talked  largely.  He 
had,  now,  plenty  of  contributors ;  he  did  n't  know  about 
employing  a  new  one.  Had  she  ever  written  ?  and  wha( 
had  she  written  ?  Ruth  showed  him  her  article  in  the 
last  number  of  "  The  Standard." 

"Oh — hum — hum!"  said  Mr.  Tibbetts,  changing  his 
tone ;  "  so  you  are  '  Floy,'  are  you  T  (casting  his  eyes 
on  her.)  "  What  pay  do  they  give  you  over  there  ?" 

Ruth  was  a  novice  in  business-matters,  but  she  had 
strong  common  sense,  and  that  common  sense  said,  he 
has  no  right  to  ask  you  that  question;  don't  you  tell 
him  ;  so  she  replied  with  dignity,  "  My  bargain,  sir,  with 
Mr.  Lescom  was  a  private  one,  I  believe." 

"Hum,"  said  the  foiled  Mr.  Tibbetts;  adding  in  an 
under-tone  to  his  partner,  "  sharp  that !" 


RUTH       II  A  L  t  .  253 

"  Well,  if  I  conclude  to  engage  you,"  said  Mr.  Tib 
betts,  "  I  should  prefer  you  would  write  for  me  over  a 
different  signature  than  the  one  by  which  your  pieces  are 
indicated  at  The  Standard  office,  or  you  can  write  exclu 
sively  for  my  paper.'' 

"  With  regard  to  your  first  proposal,"  said  Ruth,  "  if 
I  have  gained  any  reputation  by  my  first  efforts,  it  ap 
pears  to  me  that  I  should  be  foolish  to  throw  it  away  by 
the  adoption  of  another  signature ;  and  with  regard  to 
the  last,  I  have  no  objection  to  writing  exclusively  for 
you,  if  you  will  make  it  worth  my  while." 

"  Sharp  again,"  whispered  Tibbetts  to  his  partner. 

The  two  editors  then  withdrawing  into  a  further  corner 
of  the  office,  a  whispered  consultation  followed,  during 
which  Ruth  heard  the  words,  '•  Can't  afford  it,  Tom ; 
hang  it !  we  are  head  over  ears  in  debt  now  to  that  paper 
man  ;  good  articles  though — deuced  good — must  have  her 
if  we  dispense  with  some  of  our  other  contributors. 
We  had  better  begin  low  though,  as  to  terms,  for  she  '11 
go  up  now  like  a  rocket,  and  when  she  finds  out  her 
value  we  shall  have  to  increase  her  pay,  you  know.'' 

(Thank  you,  gentlemen,  thought  Ruth,  when  the  cards 
change  hands,  I  '11  take  care  to  return  the  compliment.) 

In  pursuance  of  Mr.  Tibbetts'  shrewd  resolution,  he 
made  known  his  "  exclusive  "  terms  to  Ruth,  which  were 
no  advance  upon  her  present  rate  of  pay  at  The  Stand 
ard.  This  offer  being  declined,  they  made  her  another, 


254  RUTH      HALL. 

in  which,  since  she  would  not  consent  to  do  otherwise, 
they  agreed  she  should  write  over  her  old  signature, 
"  Floy,"  furnishing  them  with  two  articles  a  week. 

Ruth  accepted  the  terms,  poor  as  they  were,  because 
she  could  at  present  do  no  better,  and  because  every 
pebble  serves  to  swell  the  current. 

Months  passed  away,  while  Ruth  hoped  and  toiled, 
"  Floy's  "  fame  as  a  writer  increasing  much  faster  than 
her  remuneration.  There  was  rent-room  to  pay,  little 
shoes  and  stockings  to  buy,  oil,  paper,  pens,  and  ink  to 
find;  and  now  autumn  had  come,  she  could  not  write 
with  stiffened  fingers,  and  wood  and  coal  were  ruinously 
high,  so  that  even  with  this  new  addition  to  her  labor, 
Ruth  seemed  to  retrograde  pecuniarily,  instead  of 
advancing ;  and  Katy  still  away !  She  must  work 
harder — harder.  Good,  brave  little  Katy ;  she,  too,  was 
bearing  and  hoping  on — mamma  had  promised,  if  she 
would  stay  there,  patiently,  she  would  certainly  take  her 
away  just  as  soon  as  she  had  earned  money  enough ;  and 
mamma  never  broke  her  promise — never ;  and  Katy 
prayed  to  God  every  night,  with  childish  trust,  to  help  her 
mother  to  earn  money,  that  she  might  soon  go  home  again. 

And  so,  while  Ruth  scribbled  away  in  her  garret,  the 
public  were  busying  themselves  in  conjecturing  who 
"  Floy "  might  be.  Letters  poured  in  upon  Mr.  Les- 
com,  with  their  inquiries,  even  bribing  him  with  the  offer 


U  U  T  II       HALL.  255 

to  procure  a  certain  number  of  subscribers,  if  he  would 
divulge  her  real  name ;  to  all  of  which  the  old 
man,  true  to  his  promise  to  Ruth,  to  keep  her  secret  in 
violate,  turned  a  deaf  ear.  All  sorts  of  rumors  became 
rife  about  "  Floy,"  some  maintaining  her  to  be  a  man, 
because  she  had  the  courage  to  call  things  by  their  right 
names,  and  the  independence  to  express  herself  boldly 
on  subjects  which  to  the  timid  and  clique-serving,  were 
tabooed.  Some  said  she  was  a  disappointed  old  maid  ; 
some  said  she  was  a  designing  widow ;  some  said  she  was 
a  moon-struck  girl  ;  and  all  said  she  was  a  nondescript. 
Some  tried  to  imitate  her,  and  failing  in  this,  abused 
and  maligned  her ;  the  outwardly  strait-laced  and  in 
wardly  corrupt,  puckered  up  their  mouths  and  "blushed 
for  her;''  the  hypocritical  denounced  the  sacrilegious  fin 
gers  which  had  dared  to  touch  the  Ark  ;  the  fashionist 
voted  her  a  vulgar,  plebeian  thing ;  and  the  earnest  and 
sorrowing,  to  whose  burdened  hearts  she  had  given  voice, 
cried  God  speed  her.  And  still  "  Floy"  scribbled  on, 
thinking  only  of  bread  for  her  children,  laughing  and 
crying  behind  her  mask, — laughing  all  the  more  when 
her  heart  was  heaviest;  but  of  this  her  readers  knew 
little  and  would  luive  cared  less.  Still  her  lit'le  bark 
breasted  the  billow:?,  now  rising  high  on  t:io  topmost 
wave,  now  merged  in  the  shadows,  but  still  steering 
with  straining  sides,  and  a  heart  of  oak,  for  the  nearing 
port  of  Independence. 


256  RUTH      HALL. 

Euth's  brother,  Hyacinth,  saw  "Floy's"  articles  floating 
through  his  exchanges  with  marked  dissatisfaction  and 
uneasiness.  That  she  should  have  succeeded  in  any  degree 
without  his  assistance,  was  a  puzzle,  and  the  premonitory 
symptoms  of  her  popularity,  which  his  weekly  exchanges 
furnished,  in  the  shape  of  commendatory  notices,  were 
gall  and  wormwood  to  him.  Something  must  be  done, 
and  that  immediately.  Seizing  his  pen',  he  despatched  a 
letter  to  Mrs.  Millet,  which  he  requested  her  to  read  to 
Ruth,  alluding  very  contemptuously  to  Ruth's  articles, 
and  begging  her  to  use  her  influence  with  Ruth  to  desist 
from  scribbling,  and  seek  some  other  employment. 
What  employment,  he  did  not  condescend  to  state ;  in 
fact,  it  was  a  matter  of  entire  indifference  to  him,  pro 
vided  she  did  not  cross  his  track.  Ruth  listened  to  the 
contents  of  the  letter,  with  the  old  bitter  smile,  and  went 
on  writing. 


CHAPTER    LXV. 

A  DULL,  drizzling  rain  spattered  persevcringly  against 
-*•*•  Ruth's  windows,  making  her  little  dark  room  ten 
fold  gloomier  and  darker  than  ever.  Little  Nettie  had 
exhausted  her  slender  stock  of  toys,  and  creeping  up  to 
her  mother's  side,  laid  her  head  wearily  in  her  lap. 

"  Wait  just  a  moment,  Nettie,  till  mamma  finishes  this 
page,"  said  Ruth,  dipping  her  pen  again  in  the  old  stone 
inkstand. 

The  child  crept  back  again  to  the  window,  and  watched 
the  little  pools  of  water  in  the  streets,  as  the  rain-drops 
dimpled  them,  and  saw.  for  the  hundredth  time,  the  gro 
cer's  "boy  carrying  home  a  brown-paper  parcel  for  some 
customers,  and  eating  something  from  it  as  he  went  along  ; 
and  listened  to  the  milkman,  who  thumped  so  loudly 
on  the  back  gates,  and  seemed  always  in  such  a  tearing 
hurry  ;  and  saw  the  baker  open  the  lid  of  his  boxes,  and 
let  the  steam,  escape  from  the  smoking  hot  cakes  and 


258  RUTH      HALL. 

pies.  Nettie  wished  she  could  have  some  of  them,  but 
she  had  long  since  learned  only  to  ivish ;  and  then  she 
saw  the  two  little  sisters  who  went  by  to  school  every 
morning,  and  who  were  now  cuddling,  laughingly  togeth 
er,  under  a  great  big  umbrella,  which  the  naughty  wind 
was  trying  to  turn  inside  out,  and  to  get  away  from  them  ; 
and  then  Nettie  thought  of  Katy,  and  wished  she  had 
Katy  to  play  with  her,  when  mamma  wrote  such  a  long, 
long  time ;  and  then  little  Nettie  drew  such  a  heavy  sigh, 
that  Euth  dashed  clown  her  pen,  and  taking  her  in  her 
arms  and  kissing  her,  told  her  about, 

"  Mistress  McShuttle, 
"Who  lived  in  a  coal-scuttle, 

Along  with  her  dog  and  her  cat, 
What  she  did  there,  I  can't  tell, 
But  I  know  very  \vell, 

That  none  of  the  party  were  fat." 

And  then  she  narrated  the  exciting  adventures  of  "  The 
Wise  Men  of  Gotham,"  who  went  to  sea  in  that  rudder 
less  bowl,  and  suffered  shipwreck  and  "  total  lass  of  life," 
as  the  newsboys  (God  bless  their  rough-and-ready  faces) 
call  it ;  and  then  little  Nettie's  snowy  lids  drooped  over 
her  violet  eyes,  and  she  was  far  away  in  the  land  of 
dreams,  where  there  are  no  little  hungry  girls,  or  tired, 
scribbling  mammas. 

Ruth  laid  the  child  gently  on  her  little  bed,  and  re 
sumed  her  pen ;  but  the  spell  was  broken,  and  "  careful 


RUTH       HALL.  259 

and  troubled  about  many  things1'  she  laid  it  down  again, 
and  her  thoughts  ran  riot. 

Pushing  aside  her  papers,  she  discovered  two  unopened 
letters  which  Mr.  Lcscom  had  handed  her,  and  which  she 
had  in  the  hurry  of  finishing  her  next  article,  quite  for 
gotten.  Breaking  the  seal  of  the  first,  she  read  as  follows  : 

"  To  '  FLOY.' 

"  I  am  a  rough  old  man,  Miss,  and  not  used  to  writ 
ing  or  talking  to  ladies.  I  don't  know  who  you  are,  and 
I  don't  ask  ;  but  I  take  '  The  Standard,'  and  I  like  your 
pieces.  I  have  a  family  of  bouncing  girls  and  boys  ;  and 
when  we  Vc  all  done  work,  we  get  round  the  lire  of  an 
evening,  while  one  cf  us  reads  your  pieces  aloud.  It 
may  not  make  much  difference  to  you  what  an  old  man 
thinks,  but  I  tell  you  those  pieces  have  got  the  real  stuff 
in  'cm,  and  so  I  told  my  son  John  the  other  night ;  and  he 
says,  and  /  say,  and  neighbor  Smith,  who  comes  in  to 
hear  'em,  says,  that  you  ought  to  make  a  book  of  them, 
so  that  your  readers  may  keep  them.  You  can  put  me 
down  for  three  copies,  to  begin  with ;  and  if  every  sub 
scriber  to  '  The  Standard  '  feels  as  I  do,  you  might  make  a 
plum  by  the  operation.  Suppose,  now,  you  think  of  it  ? 

"  N.  B. — John  says,  maybe  you  :ll  be  offended  at  my 
writing  to  you,  but  I  say  you  Ve  got  too  much  common 
eense.  Yours  to  command, 

"  JOHN  STOKES." 


260  RUTH      HALL. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Ruth,  laughing,  "  that 's  a  thought 
that  never  entered  this  busy  head  of  mine,  John  Stokes, 
/publish  a  book  ?  Why,  John,  are  you  aware  that  those 
articles  were  written  for  bread  and  butter,  not  fame ;  and 
tossed  to  the  printer  before  the  ink  was  dry,  or  I  had  time 
for  a  second  reading  1  And  yet,  perhaps,  there  is  more 
freshness  about  them  than  there  would  have  been,  had  I 
leisure  to  have  pruned  and  polished  them — who  knows  ? 
I'll  put  your  suggestion  on  file,  friend  Stokes,  to  be 
turned  over  at  my  leisure.  It  strikes  me,  though,  that  it 
will  keep  awhile.  Thank  you,  honest  John.  It  is  just 
such  readers  as  you  whom  I  like  to  secure.  Well,  what 
have  we  here "?"  and  Ruth  broke  the  seal  of  the  second 
letter.  It  was  in  a  delicate,  beautiful,  female  hand  ;  just 
such  an  one  as  you,  dear  Reader,  might  trace,  whose 
sweet,  soft  eyes,  and  long,  drooping  tresses,  are  now 
bending  over  this  page.  It  said  : 

"DEAR 'FLOY': 

"  For  you  are  '  dear '  to  me,  dear  as  a  sister  on 
whose  loving  breast  I  have  leaned,  though  I  never  saw 
your  face.  I  know  not  whether  you  are  young  and  fair, 
or  old  and  wrinkled,  but  I  know  that  your  heart  is  fresh, 
and  guileless,  and  warm  as  childhood's ;  and  that  every 
week  your  printed  words  come  to  me,  in  my  sick  cham 
ber,  like  the  ministrations  of  some  gentle  friend,  some 
times  stirring  to  its  very  depths  the  fountain  of  tears,  some- 


RUTH       HALL.  261 

times,  by  odd  and  quaint  conceits,  provoking  the  mirth 
ful  smile.  But  '  Floy,'  I  love  you  best  in  your  serious 
moods ;  for  as  earth  recedes,  and  eternity  draws  near,  it 
is  the  real  and  tangible,  my  soul  yearns  after.  And  sure 
I  am,  '  Floy,'  that  I  am  not  mistaken  in  thinking  that  wo 
both  lean  on  the  same  Rock  of  Ages ;  both  discern, 
through  the  mists  and  clouds  of  time,  the  Sun  of  Right 
eousness.  I  shall  never  sec  you,  '  Floy,'  on  earth ; — mys 
terious  voices,  audible  only  to  the  dying  ear,  are  calling 
me  away  ;  and  yet,  before  I  go,  1  would  send  you  this 
token  of  my  love,  for  all  the  sweet  and  soul-strengthening 
words  you  have  unconsciously  sent  to  my  sick  chamber, 
to  wing  the  weary,  waiting  hours.  We  shall  meet, '  Floy' ; 
but  it  will  be  where  '  tears  are  wiped  away,' 
"  God  bless  you,  my  unknown  sister. 

"MAinrR,  ." 

Ruth's  head  bowed  low  upon  the  table,  and  her  lips 
moved ;  but  He  to  whom  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are 
known,  alone  heard  that  grateful  prayer. 


CHAPTER   LXYI. 


first  miserable  day  at  school  !  Who  that  has 
known  it  —  even  with  a  mother's  kiss  burning  on  the 
cheek,  a  big  orange  bumping  in  the  new  satchel,  and  a 
promise  of  apple-dumplings  for  dinner,  can  review  it  with 
out  a  shudder'?  Torturing  —  even  when  you  can  run 
home  and  "  tell  mother  "  all  your  little  griefs  ;  when 
every  member  of  the  home  circle  votes  it  "  a  shame  "  that 
Johnny  Oakes  laughed  because  you  did  not  take  your 
alphabet  the  natural  way,  instead  of  receiving  it  by  in 
oculation,  (just  as  he  forgets  that  he  did;)  torturing  — 
when  Bill  Smith,  and  Tom  Simms,  with  whom  you  have 
"  swapped  alleys,"  and  played  "  hockey,"  are  there  with 
their  familiar  faces,  to  take  off  the  chill  of  the  new  school 
room  ;  torturing  —  to  the  sensitive  child,  even  when  the 
teaehei  is  a  sunny-faced  young  girl,  instead  of  a  prim  old 
ogre.  Poor  little  Katy  !  her  book  was  before  her  ;  but 
the  lines  blurred  into  one  indistinct  haze,  and  her  throat 


RUTH       HALL.  263 

seemed  filling  to  suffocation  with  long-suppressed  sobs. 
The  teacher,  if  he  thought  anything  about  it,  thought  she 
had  the  tooth-ache,  or  car-ache,  or  head-ache  ;  and  Katy 
kept  her  own  secret,  for  she  had  read  his  face  correctly, 
and  with  a  child's  quick  instinct,  stifled  down  her  throb 
bing  little  heart. 

To  the  doctor,  and  "  Mis.  Hall,"  with  their  anti-pro 
gressive  notions,  a  school  was  a  school.  The  committee 
had  passed  judgment  on  it,  and  I  would  like  to  know  who 
would  be  insane  enough  to  question  the  decision  of  a 
School  Committee  ?  What  did  the  committee  care,  that 
the  consumptive  teacher,  for  his  own  personal  conven 
ience,  madly  excluded  all  ventilation,  and  heated  the  little 
sheet-iron  stove  hotter  than  Shadrack's  furnace,  till  little 
heads  snapped,  and  cheeks  crimsoned,  and  croup  stood 
ready  at  the  threshold  to  seize  the  first  little  bare  throat 
that  presented  its  perspiring  surface  to  the  keen  frosty 
air]  What  did  they  care  that  the  desks  were  so  con 
structed,  as  to  crook  spines,  and  turn  in  toes,  and  round 
shoulders  1  What  did  they  care  that  the  funnel  smoked 
week  after  week,  till  the  curse  of  "  weak  eyes  "  was  en 
tailed  on  their  victims  for  a  lifetime  ?  They  had  other 
irons  in  the  fire,  to  which  this  was  a  cipher.  For  instance : 
the  village  pump  was  out  of  repair,  and  town-meeting 
after  town-meeting  had  been  called,  to  see  who  shouldn't 
make  its  handle  fly.  North  Gotham  said  it  was  the  busi 
ness  of  East  Gotham;  East  Gotham  said  the  pump  might 


264  EUTHHALL. 

rot  before  they  'd  bear  the  expense  ;  not  that  the  East 
Gothamites  cared  for  expense  — no ;  they  scorned  the  in 
sinuation,  but  they  'd  have  North  Gotham  to  know  that 
East  Gotham  was  n't  to  be  put  upon.  Jeremiah  Stubbs, 
a  staunch  North  Gothamite,  stopped  buying  molasses  and 
calico  at  "  Ezekial  Tibbs'  East  Gotham  Finding  Store  ;" 
and  Ezekial  Tibbs  forbade,  under  penalty  of  losing  his 
custom,  the  carpenter  who  was  repairing  his  pig-sty, 
from  buying  nails  any  more  of  Jeremiah  Stubbs,  of 
North  Gotham ;  matches  were  broken  up ;  "own  cousins  " 
ceased  to  know  one  another,  and  the  old  women  had  a 
millenial  time  of  it  over  their  bohea,  discussing  and  set 
tling  matters ;  no  marvel  that  such  a  trifle  as  a  child's 
school  should  be  overlooked.  Meantime  there  stood 
the  pump,  with  its  impotent  handle,  high  and  dry ;  "a 
gone  sucker,"  as  Mr.  Tibbs  facetiously  expressed  it. 

"  You  can't  go  to  school  to-day,  Katy,  it  is  washing- 
day,"  said  old  Mrs.  Hall ;  "  go  get  that  stool,  now  sit 
down  on  it,  at  my  feet,  and  let  me  cut  off  those  foolish 
dangling  curls." 

"  Mamma  likes  them,"  said  the  child. 

"I  know  it,"  replied  the  old  lady,  with  a  malicious 
smile,  as  she  gathered  a  cluster  of  them  in  one  hand  and 
seized  the  scissors  with  the  other. 

"  Papa  liked  them,"  said  Katy,  shrinking  back. 

"  No,  he  did  n't,"  replied  the  old  lady  ;  "  or,  if  he  did, 
'twas  only  to  please  your  foolish  mother ;  any  way  they 


R  U  1  H       HALL.  265 

are  coming  off;  if  I  don't  like  them,  that 's  enough  ;  you 
are  always  to  live  with  me  now,  Katy ;  it  makes  no  differ 
ence  what  your  mother  thinks  or  says  about  anything, 
so  you  needn't  quote  her ;  I  'm  going  to  try  to  make  a 
good  girl  of  you,  i.  c.  if  she  will  let  you  alone ;  you  are 
full  of  faults,  just  as  she  is,  and  I  shall  have  to  take  a 
great  deal  of  pains  with  you.  You  ought  to  love  me  very 
much  for  it,  better  than  anybody  else  in  the  world — don't 


(No  response  from  Katy.) 

"  I  say,  Katy,  you  ought  to  love  me  better  than  any- 
uody  else  in  the  world,"  repeated  the  old  lady,  tossing  a 
handful  of  the  severed  ringlets  down  on  the  carpet.  "  Do 
you,  Katy  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am,"  answered  the  truthful  child. 

'•  That  tells  the  whole  story,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he 
started  up  and  boxed  Katy's  ears  ;  "  now  go  up  and  stay 
in  your  room  till  I  send  for  you,  for  being  disrespectful 
to  your  grandmother." 

"  Like  mother — like  child,"  said  the  old  lady,  as  Katy 
half  shorn,  moved  like  a  culprit  out  of  the  room  ;  then 
gathering  up  in  her  apron  the  shining  curls,  she  looked  on 
with  a  malicious  smile,  while  they  crisped  and  blackened 
in  the  glowing  Lehigh  fire. 

But  miserable  as  were  the  week-days — Sunday,  after 
all,  was  the  dreadful  day  for  Katy ;  the  long — long — 
long  Sunday,  when  every  book  in  the  house  was  put  un- 

12 


RUTH       HALL. 

der  lock  and  key ;  when  even  religious  newspapers, 
tracts,  and  memoirs,  were  tabooed  ;  when  the  old  people, 
who  fancied  they  could  not  go  to  church,  sat  from  sunrise 
to  sunset  in  their  best  clothes,  with  their  hands  folded, 
looking  speechlessly  into  the  fire ;  when  there  was  no 
dinner;  when  the  Irish  girl  and  the  cat,  equally  lawless 
and  heretical,  went  to  see  their  friends  ;  when  not  a  sound 
was  heard  in  the  house,  save  the  ticking  of  the  old  claw- 
footed-clock,  that  stood  in  the  entry ;  when  Katy  crept  up 
to  her  little  room,  and  crouching  in  a  corner,  wondered 
if  God  was  good — why  he  let  her  papa  die,  and  why  he 
did  not  help  her  mamma,  who  tried  so  hard  to  earn 
money  to  bring  her  home. 

The  last  bright  golden  beam  of  the  Sabbath  sun  had 
slowly  faded  away.  One  by  one  the  stars  came  gliding 
out.  He  who  held  them  all  in  their  places,  listening  ever 
to  the  ceaseless  music  of  their  motion,  yet  bent  a  pity 
ing  ear  to  the  stifled  sob  of  a  troubled  child.  Softly — 
sweetly — fell  the  gentle  dew  of  slumber  on  weary  eye 
lids,  while  angels  came  to  minister.  Tears  glittered  still 
on  Katy's  long  lashes,  but  the  little  lips  parted  with  a 
smile,  murmuring  "  Papa."  Sleep  on— dream  on — little 
Katy.  He  who  noteth  the  sparrow's  fall,  hath  given 
his  angels  charge  to  keep  thee. 


CHAPTER    LXYII. 

TN  one  of  the  thousand  business  offices,  in  one  of  tho 
•*•  thousand  crowded  streets  of  a  neighboring  city,  sat 
Mr.  John  Walter,  with  his  legs  crossed,  his  right  finder 
pressed  against  the  right  lobe  of  his  organ  of  causality, 
his  right  elbow  resting  on  his  right  knee,  and  the  lingers 
of  his  let't  hand  beating  a  sort  of  tattoo  on  a  fresh  copy 
of  The  Standard,  which  lay  upon  the  table  by  his  side. 
His  attitude  was  one  of  profound  meditation. 

""  Who  can  she  be  ?"'  exclaimed  Mr.  Walter,  in  a 
tone  of  blended  interest  and  vexation ;  "  who  can  she 
be  f  Mr.  Walter  raised  his  head,  uncrossed  his  legs, 
took  up  The  Standard,  and  re-read  ;  Floy's' last  article 
slowly  ;  often  pausing  to  analyze  the  sentences,  as  though 
ho  would  extort  from  them  some  hidden  meaning,  to 
serve  as  a  clue  to  the  identity  of  the  author.  After  he 
had  perused  the  article  thus  searching]}*,  he  laid  down 
The  Standard,  and  again  exclaimed.  ••  Who  can  she 


268  RUTH       HALL. 


be  ?  she  Js_augenius  certainly,  ivkeever  she  is,"  continued 
he,  soliloquizingly  ;  w  a  bitter  life  experience  she  has  had 
too  ;  she  did  not  draw  upon  her  imagination  for  this  arti 
cle.  Like  the  very  first  production  of  her  pen  that  I 
read,  it  is  a  wail  from  her  inmost  soul;  so  are  many 
of  her  pieces.  A  few  dozen  of  them  taken  consecutively, 
would  form  a  whole  history  of  wrong,  and  suffering,  and 
bitter  sorrow.  What  a  singular  being  she  must  be,  if  I 
have  formed  a  correct  opinion  of  her  ;  what  powers  of 
endurance  !  What  an  elastic,  strong,  brave,  loving,  fiery, 
yet  soft  and  winning  nature  !  A  bundle  of  contradic 
tions  !  and  how  famously  she  has  got  on  too  !  it  is  only 
a  little  more  than  a  year  since  her  first  piece  was  pub 
lished,  and  now  her  articles  flood  the  whole  country  ;  I 
seldom  take  up  an  exchange,  which  does  not  contain  one 
or  more  of  them.  That  first  piece  of  hers  was  a  stroke 
of  genius  —  a  real  gem,  although  not  very  smoothly 
polished  ;  ever  since  I  read  it,  I  have  been  trying  to  find 
out  the  authors  name,  and  have  watched  her  career  with 
eager  interest  ;  her  career,  I  say,  for  I  suppose  *  Floy  ' 
to  be  a  woman,  notwithstanding  the  rumors  to  the  con 
trary.  At  any  rate,  my  wife  says  so,  and  women  have 
an  instinct  about  such  things.  I  wish  I  knew  whether 
she  gets  well  paid  for  her  writings.  Probably  not.  In 
experienced  writers  seldom  get  more  than  a  mere  pit 
tance.  There  are  so  many  ready  to  write  (poor  fools  !) 
for  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  thing,  and  there  are  so 


R  17  T  II       HALL.  209 

many  ready  to  take  advantage  of  this  fact,  and  withhold 
from  needy  talent  the  moral  right  to  a  deserved  remu 
neration.  Thank  heaven,  I  have  never  practiced  this. 
The  '  Household  Messenger  '  docs  not  yield  me  a  very 
large  income,  but  what  it  docs  yield  is  fairly  earned. 
Why,  bless  me !''  exclaimed  Mr.  Walter,  suddenly  start 
ing  up.  and  as  suddenly  sitting  down  again  ;  ';  why  has 
not  this  idea  occurred  to  me  before  ?  ye**,  why  not  engage 
'  Floy  '  to  write  for  the  Household  Messenger?  How  1 
wish  I  were  rich,  that  1  might  give  her  such  a  price  as 
she  really  deserves.  Let  me  see  ;  she  now  writes  for 
The  Standard,  and  The  Pilgrim,  four  pieces  a  week  for 
each;  eight  pieces  in  all ;  that  is  too  much  work  for  her 
to  begin  with  ;  she  cannot  do  herself  justice  ;  she  ought 
not  to  write,  at  the  outside,  more  than  two  pieces  a  week ; 
then  she  could  polish  them  up,  and  strengthen  them,  and 
render  them  as  nearly  perfect  in  execution  as  they  are  in 
conception.  One  piece  a  week  would  be  as  much  as  I 
should  wish ;  could  I  possibly  afford  to  pay  her  as  much, 
or  more  for  that  one  piece,  as  she  now  gets  for  eight  ? 
Her  name  is  a  tower  of  strength,  but  its  influence  would 
be  frittered  away,  were  she  to  write  for  more  than  one 
paper.  If  I  could  secure  her  pen  all  to  myself,  the  ad 
vertising  that  such  a  connection  would  give  The  Mes 
senger  would  be  -worth  something.  Ah  me,  were  my 
purse  only  commensurate  with  my  feelings.  If  I  only 
knew  who  '  Floy  '  is,  and  could  lir  ve  an  interview  with  her, 


270  RUTH       HALL. 

I  might  perhaps  arrange  matters  so  as  to  benefit  us  both  ; 
and  I  will  know,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Walter,  jumping  up 
and  pacing  the  room  rapidly  ;  "  I  '11  know  before  I  'm  a 
month  older ;"  and  the  matter  was  settled ;  for  when 
John  Walter  paced  the  floor  rapidly,  and  said  "  I  will," 
Fate  folded  her  hands. 


CHAPTER   LXVIII. 


;<  A  LETTER  for  *  Floy  !'"  said  Mr.  Lescom,  smiling. 
"  Another  lover,  I  suppose.  Ah  !  when  you  get  to 
be  ray  age,"  continued  the  old  man,  stroking  his  silver 
hair,  "  you  will  treat  their  communications  with  more  at 
tention."  As  he  finished  his  remark,  he  held  the  letter 
up  playfully  for  a  moment,  and  then  tossed  it  into  Ruth's 
lap. 

Ruth  thrust  it  unread  into  her  apron  pocket.  She  was 
thinking  of  her  book,  and  many  other  things  of  far  more 
interest  to  her  than  lovers,  if  lover  the  writer  were. 
After  correcting  the  proof  of  her  articles  for  the  next 
week's  paper,  and  looking  over  a  few  exchanges,  she 
asked  for  and  received  the  wages  due  her  for  the  last 
articles  published,  and  went  home. 

Ruth  was  wearied  out ;  her  walk  home  tired  her  more 
than  usual.  Climbing  to  her  room,  she  sat  down  with 
out  removing  her  bonnet,  and  leaning  her  head  upon  her 


272  RUTH       HALL. 

hand,  tried  to  look  hopefully  into  the  future.  She  was 
soon  disturbed  by  Nettie,  who  exploring  her  mother's 
pockets,  and  finding  the  letter,  exclaimed,  pointing  to  the 
three  cent  stamp,  "  May  I  have  this  pretty  picture, 
mamma  ?" 

Euth  drew  forth  the  letter,  opened  the  envelope,  cut 
out  the  stamp  for  Nettie,  who  soon  suspended  it  around 
her  doll's  neck  for  a  medal,  and  then  read  the  epistle, 
which  ran  as  follows : 

"To  TLOY': 

"  Madam, — I  have  long  wished  to  communicate  with 
you,  long  wished  to  know  who  you  are.  Since  the  ap 
pearance  of  your  first  article,  I  have  watched  your  course 
with  deep  interest,  and  have  witnessed  your  success  with 
the  most  unfeigned  pleasure.  My  reasons  for  wishing  to 
make  your  acquaintance  at  this  particular  juncture, 
are  partly  business  and  partly  friendly  reasons.  As 
you  will  see  by  a  copy  of  the  Household  Messenger, 
which  I  herewith  send  you,  I  am  its  Editor.  I  know 
something  about  the  prices  paid  contributors  for  the 
periodical  press,  and  have  often  wondered  whether  you 
were  receiving  anything  like  such  a  remuneration  as 
your  genius  and  practical  newspaperial  talent  entitle  you 
to.  I  have  also  often  wished  to  write  you  on  the  subject, 
and  tell  you  what  I  think  is  your  market-value — to  speak 
in  business  phrase — as  a  writer  ;  so  that  in  case  you  are 


R  U  T  'I       HALL.  273 

not  receiving  a  just  compensation,  as  things  go,  you  might 
know  it,  and  act  accordingly.  In  meditating  upon  the 
subject,  it  has  occurred,  to  me  that  I  might  benefit  you 
and  myself  at  the  same  time,  and  in  a  perfectly  legiti 
mate  manner,  by  engaging  you  to  write  solely  for  my 
paper.  I  have  made  a  calculation  as  to  what  I  can  afford 
to  give  you,  or  rather  what  I  will  give  you,  for  writing 
one  article  a  week  for  me,  the  article  to  be  on  any  sub 
ject,  and  of  any  length  you  please.  Such  an  arrange 
ment  would  of  course  give  you  time  to  take  more  pains 
with  your  writing,  and  also  afford  you  such  leisure  for 
relaxation,  as  every  writer  needs. 

"  Now  what  I  wish  you  to  do  is  this  :  I  want  you  first 
to  inform  me  what  you  get  for  writing  for  The  Standard, 
and  The  Pilgrim,  and  if  I  find  that  I  can  afford  to  give 
you  more,  I  will  make  you  an  oiler.  If  I  cannot  give 
you  more,  I  will  not  trouble  you  farther  on  that  sub 
ject;  as  I  seek  your  benefit  more  than  my  own.  In 
case  you  should  accept  any  oiler  which  I  should  find  it 
proper  to  make,  it  would  be  necessary  for  you  to  tell  me 
your  real  name  ;  as  I  should  wish  for  a  written  contract, 
in  order  to  prevent  any  possibility  of  a  misunderstand 
ing. 

"In  conclusion,  I  beg  that  you  will  permit  me  to  say, 
that  whether  or  not  arrangements  are  made  for  you  to 
write  for  me,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  serve  you  in  any 
way  in  my  power.  I  have  some  experience  in  literary 


274  RUTH       HALL. 

matters,  which  I  will  gladly  place  at  your  disposal.  In 
short,  madam,  I  feel  a  warm,  brotherly  interest  in  your 
welfare,  as  well  as  a  high  admiration  for  your  genius,  and 
it  will  afford  me  much  pleasure  to  aid  you,  whenever  my 
services  can  be  made  profitable. 

"  Very  truly  yours,  JOHN  WALTER." 

Ruth  sat  with  the  letter  in  her  hand.  The  time  had 
been  when  not  a  doubt  would  have  arisen  in  her  mind  as 
to  the  sincerity  of  the  writer ;  but,  alas  !  adversity  is  so 
rough  a  teacher  !  ever  laying  the  cold  finger  of  caution  on 
the  warm  heart  of  trust !  Ruth  sighed,  and  tossed  the 
letter  on  the  table,  half  ashamed  of  herself  for  her  cow 
ardice,  and  wishing  that  she  could  have  faith  in  the 
writer.  Then  she  picked  up  the  letter  again.  She  ex 
amined  the  hand- writing ;  it  was  bold  and  manly.  She 
thought  it  would  be  treating  it  too  shabbily  to  throw  it 
aside  among  the  love-sick  trash  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
receiving.  She  would  read  it  again.  The  tone  was  re 
spectful  ;  that  won  her.  The  "  Household  Messenger  " — 
"  John  Walter  ?" — she  certainly  had  heard  those  names 
before.  The  letter  stated  that  a  copy  of  the  paper  had 
been  sent  her,  but  she  had  not  yet  received  it.  She  recol 
lected  now  that  she  had  seen  the  "  Household  Messen 
ger  "  among  the  exchanges  at  "  The  Standard  "  office,  and 
remembered  that  she  always  liked  its  appearance,  and 
admired  its  editorials ;  they  were  fearless  and  honest,  and 


RUTH       HALL.  275 

always  on  the  side  of  the  weak,  and  on  the  side  of  truth. 
Ruth  also  had  an  indistinct  remembrance  of  having  heard 
Mr.  Walter  spoken  of  by  somebody,  at  some  time,  as  a 
most  energetic  young  man,  who  had  wrung  success  from 
an  unwilling  world,  and  fought  his  way,  single-handed, 
from  obscurity  to  an  honorable  position  in  society, 
against,  what  would  have  been  to  many,  overwhelming 
odds.  "  Hence  the  reason,"  thought  Ruth,  "  his  heart  so 
readily  vibrates  to  the  chord  of  sorrow  which  I  have 
struck.  His  experienced  heart  has  detected  in  my  writ 
ings  the  flutterings  and  desolation  of  his  own."  Ruth 
wanted  to  believe  in  Mr.  Walter.  She  glanced  at  his  letter 
again  with  increased  interest  and  attention.  It  seemed 
so  frank  and  kind  ;  but  then  it  was  bold  and  exacting,  too. 
The  writer  wished  to  know  how  much  she  received  from  the 
'•  Pilgrim,"  and  "  Standard,"  and  what  was  her  real  name. 
Would  it  be  prudent  to  entrust  so  much  to  an  entire 
stranger?  and  the  very  first  time  he  asked,  too?  Even 
granting  he  was  actuated  by  the  best  of  motives,  would 
he  not  think  if  she  told  him  all,  without  requiring  some 
further  guaranty  on  his  part,  that  her  confidence  was  too 
easily  won  ?  Would  he  not  think  her  too  indiscreet  to 
be  entrusted  with  his  confidence  ?  Would  he  not  be  apt 
to  believe  that  she  had  not  even  sufficient  discretion  on 
which  to  base  a  business  arrangement  ?  And  then,  if  his 
letter  had  been  dictated  by  idle  curiosity  only,  how  un 
fortunate  su  -h  an  expose  of  her  affairs  might  be.  No — 


276  RUTH       HALL. 

she — could — not — do — it !  But  then,  if  Mr.  Walter  were 
honest,  if  he  really  felt  such  a  "brotherly  interest  in  her, 
how  sweet  it  would  be  to  have  him  for  a  brother ;  a — 
real,  warnirhearted,  brotherly  brother,  such  as  she  had 
never  known.  Ruth  took  up  her  pen  to  write  to  Mr. 
Walter,  but  as  quickly  laid  it  down,  "  Oh — I — cannot !" 
she  said;  "no,  not  to  a  stranger!"  Then,  again  she 
seized  her  pen,  and  with  a  quick  flush,  and  a  warm  tear, 
said,  half  pettishly,  half  mournfully,  "  Away  with  these 
ungenerous  doubts !  Am  I  never  again  to  put  faith  in 
human  nature  ?" 

Ruth  answered  Mr.  Walter's  letter.  She  answered  it 
frankly  and  unreservedly.  She  stated  what  wages  she 
was  then  receiving.  She  told  him  her  name.  As  she 
went  on,  she  felt  a  peace  to  which  she  had  long  been  a 
stranger.  She  often  paused  to  wipe  the  tears — tears  of 
happiness — from  her  eyes.  It  was  so  sweet  to  believe  in 
somebody  once  more.  She  wrote  a  long  letter — a  sweet, 
sisterly  letter — pouring  out  her  long  pent-up  feelings,  as 
though  Mr.  Walter  had  indeed  been  her  brother,  who, 
having  been  away  ever  since  before  Harry's  death,  had 
just  returned,  and,  consequently,  had  known  nothing 
about  her  cruel  sufferings.  After  she  had  sealed  and 
superscribed  the  letter,  she  became  excessively  frightened 
at  what  she  had  done,  and  thought  she  never  could  send 
it  to  Mr.  Walter ;  but  another  perusal  of  his  letter  re 
assured  her.  She  rose  to  go  to  the  post-office,  and  then 


R  ['  T  H       II  A  L  L  .  277 

became  conscious  that  she  had  not  removed  her  bonnet 
and  shawl,  but  had  sat  all  this  while  in  walking  cos 
tume  !  "  Well,"  said  she,  laughing,  "  this  is  rather  blue- 
stocking-y  ;  however,  it  is  all  the  better,  as  I  am  now 
ready  for  my  walk."  liiith  carried  her  letter  to  the 
post-ofiice ;  dropping  it  into  the  letter-box  with  more 
hopeful  feelings  than  Noah  probably  experienced  when  he 
sent  forth  the  dove  from  the  ark  for  the  third  time. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

MA  WALTER  sat  in  his  office,  looking  over  the 
iru.TuS3  mail-  "*  wonder  is  this  from  '  Floy  '  ?" 
he  said,  as  he  examined  a  compact  little  package.  "  It 
bears  the  right  post-mark,  and  the  handwriting  is  a  lady's. 
A  splendid  hand  it  is,  too.  There 's  character  in  that 
hand;  I  hope  'tis  'Floy's.'" 

Mr.  Walter  broke  the  seal,  and  glancing  at  a  few  sen 
tences,  turned  to  the  signature.  "  Yes,  it  is  '  Floy' ! 
now  for  a  revelation."  He  then  commenced  perusing 
the  letter  with  the  most  intense  interest.  After  reading 
the  first  page  his  eye  began  to  flos»V,  and  bis  lip  to  quiver. 
"  Poor  girl — poor  girl — heartless  creatures — too  bad — 
too  bad,"  and  other  exclamations  rrther  too  warm  for 
publication  ;  finishing  the  letter  and  refolding  it,  he  paced 
the  room  with  a  short,  quick  step,  indicative  of  deep 
interest,  and  determined  purpose.  "  It  is  too  bad,"  he 
exclaimed  ;  "  shameful !  the  whole  of  it ;  and  how  hard 


RUTH       HALL.  279 

she  has  worked !  and  what  a  pitiful  sum  those  fellows 
pay  her  !  it  is  contemptible.  She  has  about  made  The 
Standard  ;  it  never  was  heard  of  to  any  extent  before  she 
commenced  writing  for  it.  It  is  perfectly  outrageous  ;  she 
shall  not  write  for  them  another  day,  if  I  can  help  it !  I 
will  make  h?,r  an  offer  at  once.  She  will  accept  it ;  and 
then  those  Jews  will  be  brought  to  their  senses.  Ha!  ha  I 
I  know  them!  They  will  want  to  get  her  back  ;  they  will 
write  to  me  about  it,  or  at  least  Lescom  will.  That  will 
give  me  a  chance  at  him  ;  and  if  I  don't  tell  him  a  few 
truths  in  plain  English,  my  name  is  not  John  Walter." 
Then  seating  himself  at  his  desk,  Mr.  Walter  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  '•  Irioy' : 

"  DEAR  SISTER  RUTH, — If  you  will  permit  me  to  be  so 
brotherly.  I  have  received,  read,  and  digested  your  let 
ter  ;  how  it  has  affected  me  I  will  not  now  tell  you.  I 
wish  to  say,  however,  that  on  reading  that  portion  of  it 
which  relates  to  the  compensation  you  are  now  receiving, 
my  indignation  exhausted  the  dictionary  !  Why,  you 
poor,  dear  little  genius  !  what  you  write  for  those  two 
papers  is  worth,  to  the  proprietors,  ten  times  what  they 
pay  you.  But  I  will  not  bore  you  with  compliments ;  I 
wish  to  engage  you  to  write  for  the  Household  Messen 
ger,  and  here  is  my  oner  :  you  to  write  one  article  a 
week,  length,  matter  and  manner,  to  your  own  fancy  ;  I 
to  pay  you ,  the  engagement  to  continue  one  year, 


280  RUTH       HALL. 

during  which  time  you  are  not  to  write  ft  >  ^ 
periodical,  without  my  consent.  My  reason  for  placing  a 
limitation  to  our  engagement  is,  that  you  may  be  able  to 
take  advantage  at  that  time  of  better  offers,  which  you 
will  undoubtedly  have. 

"  I  enclose  duplicates  of  a  contract,  which,  if  the  terms 
suit,  you  will  please  sign  and  return  one  copy  by  the  next 
mail ;  the  other  copy  you  will  keep.  Unless  you  accept 
my  offer  by  return  of  mail  it  will  be  withdrawn.  You 
may  think  this  exacting  ;  I  will  explain  it  in  my  next  to 
your  satisfaction.  Most  truly  your  friend, 

"Joim  WALTER." 

This  letter  being  despatched,  thanks  to  the  post-office 
department,  arrived  promptly  at  its  destination  the  next 
morning. 

Euth  sat  with  Mr.  Walter's  letter  in  her  hand,  think 
ing.  " '  If  you  do  not  accept  my  offer  by  return  of  mail, 
it  will  be  withdrawn.'  How  exacting !  '  the  explanation  of 
this  to  be  given  in  my  next  letter,'  ah,  Mr.  John  Walter, 
I  shall  not  have  to  wait  till  then,"  soliloquized  Ruth ;  "  I 
oan  jump  at  your  reason  ;  you  think  I  shall  mention  it  to 
Mr.  Lescom,  and  that  then  he  will  interfere,  and  offer 
something  by  way  of  an  equiyalent  to  tempt  me  to  reject 
it ;  that 's  it,  Mr.  John  Walter  !  This  bumping  round  the 
world  has  at  least  sharpened  my  wits !"  and  Ruth  sat 
beating  a  tattoo  with  the  toe  of  her  slipper  on  the  carpet, 


RUTH       HALL.  281 

and  looking  very  profound  and  wise.  Then  she  took  up 
the  contract  and  examined  it ;  it  was  brief,  plain  and 
easily  understood,  even  ly  a  woman,  as  the  men  say. 
"  It  is  a  good  offer,"  said  Ruth,  "  he  is  in  earnest,  so  am 
I ;  it 's  a  bargain."  Ruth  signed  the  document. 


CHAPTER    LXX. 

OOD  afternoon,  '  Floy,'  "  said  Mr.  Lescora  to  Ruth, 
as  she  entered  the  Standard  office,  the  day  after  she 
had  signed  the  contract  with  Mr.  Walter.  "  I  was  just 
thinking  of  you,  and  wishing  for  an  opportunity  to  have  a 
little  private  chat.  Your  articles  are  not  as  long  as  they 
used  to  be ;  you  must  be  more  liberal." 

"  I  was  not  aware,"  replied  Ruth,  "  that  my  articles  had 
grown  any  shorter.  However,  with  me,  an  article  is  an 
article,  some  of  my  shorter  pieces  being  the  most  valuable 
I  have  written.  If  you  would  like  more  matter,  Mr.  Les- 
com,  I  wonder  you  have  not  offered  me  more  pay." 

"  There  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Lescom,  smiling ;  "  women  are 
never  satisfied.  The  more  they  get,  the  more  grasping 
they  become.  I  have  always  paid  you  more  than  you 
could  get  anywhere  else." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  replied  Ruth.  "  I  believe  I  have  never 
troubled  you  with  complaints ;  but  I  have  looked  at  my 


RUTH       HALL.  283 

children  sometimes,  and  thought  that  I  must  try  somehow 
to  get  more  ;  and  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  if  my 
articles,  as  you  have  told  me,  were  constantly  bringing 
you  new  subscribers,  friendship,  if  not  justice,  would  in 
duce  you  to  raise  my  salary/' 

"  Friendship  has  nothing  to  do  with  business,"  replied 
Mr.  Lescom  ;  "  a  bargain  is  a  bargain.  The  law  of  sup 
ply  and  demand  regulates  prices  in  all  cases.  In  litera 
ture,  at  present,  the  supply  greatly  exceeds  the  demand, 
consequently  the  prices  are  low.  Of  course,  I  have  to 
regulate  my  arrangements  according  to  my  own  interests, 
and  not  according  to  the  interests  of  others.  You,  of 
course,  must  regulate  your  arrangements  according  to 
your  interests ;  and  if  anybody  else  will  give  you  more 
than  I  do,  you  are  at  liberty  to  take  it,  As  I  said  before, 
business  is  one  thing — -friendship  is  another.  Each  is 
good  in  its  way,  but  they  are  quite  distinct." 

As  Mr.  Lescom  finished  this  business-like  and  logical 
speech,  he  looked  smilingly  at  Ruth,  with  an  air  which 
might  be  called  one  of  tyrannical  benevolence ;  as  if  he 
would  say,  "  Well,  now,  I  'd  like  to  know  what  you  can 
find  to  say  to  that  T 

';  I  am  glad,7'  replied  Ruth,  "  that  you  think  so,  for  I  have 
already  acted  in  accordance  with  your  sentiments.  I  have 
had,  and  accepted,  an  offer  of  a  better  salary  than  you 
pay  me.  My  object  in  calling  this  afternoon  was  to  in- 


284  RUTH      HALL. 

form  you  of  this  ;  and  to  say,  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
write  any  more  for  '  The  Standard.' " 

Mr.  Lescom  looked  astonished,  and  gazed  at  Kuth 
without  speaking,  probably  because  he  did  not  know  ex 
actly  what  to  say.  He  had  argued  Ruth's  case  so  well, 
while  he  supposed  he  was  arguing  his  own,  that  nothing 
more  could  be  said.  Mr.  Lescom,  in  reality,  valued  Ruth's 
services  more  than  those  of  all  his  other  contributors 
combined,  and  the  loss  of  them  was  a  bitter  thing  to  him. 
And  then,  what  would  his  subscribers  say  ?  The  reason 
of  Ruth's  leaving  might  become  known;  it  would  not 
sound  well  to  have  it  said  that  she  quit  writing  for  him 
because  he  did  not,  or  could  not,  or  would  not  pay  her  as 
much  as  others.  Just  then  it  occurred  to  him  that  en 
gaging  to  write  for  another  journal,  did  not  necessarily 
preclude  the  possibility  of  her  continuing  to  write  for 
"  The  Standard."  Catching  eagerly  at  the  idea,  he  said  : 

"  Well,  '  Floy,'  I  am  really  glad  that  you  have  been  so 
fortunate.  Of  course  I  wish  you  to  make  as  much  as  you 
can,  and  should  be  glad,  did  my  circumstances  admit,  to 
give  you  a  salary  equal  to  what  you  can  command  else 
where  ;  but  as  I  cannot  give  you  more  than  I  have  been 
paying,  I  am  glad  somebody  else  will.  Still,  I  see  no 
reason  why  you  should  stop  writing  for  '  The  Standard.' 
Your  articles  will  just  be  as  valuable  to  me,  as  though 
you  had  made  no  new  engagement." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  Mr.  Lescom,"  replied 


R  U  T  II       HALL.  285 

Ruth,  "  but  I  cannot  meet  your  wishes  in  this  respect,  as 
the  contract  I  have  signed  will  not  permit  me  to  write  for 
any  paper  but  '  The  Household  Messenger.'  " 

At  this  announcement  Mr.  Lescom's  veil  of  good  na 
ture  was  rent  in  twain.  "  '  The  Household  Messenger !' 
Ah !  it 's  John  Walter,  then,  who  has  found  you  out  ] 
I  don't  wish  to  boast,  but  I  must  say,  that  I  think  you 
have  made  but  a  poor  exchange.  The  whole  thing  is 
very  unfortunate  for  you.  I  was  just  making  arrange 
ments  to  club  with  two  other  editors,  and  to  offer  you  a 
handsome  yearly  salary  for  writing  exclusively  for  our 
three  papers;  but  of  course  that  arrangement  is  all 
knocked  in  the  head  now.  It  seems  to  me  that  you 
might  have  made  an  exception  in  favor  of '  The  Standard.' 
I  have  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Walter  would  have  consented 
to  let  you  write  for  it,  as  it  was  the  first  paper  for  which 
you  ever  wrote.  He  would  probably  do  so  now  if  you 
would  ask  him.  He  is  an  editor,  and  would  understand 
the  matter  at  once.  He  would  see  that  I  had  more  than 
ordinary  claims  upon  you.  What  do  you  say  to  writing 
him  on  the  subject  ?" 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  doing  so,"  replied  Ruth,  "  if 
you  think  it  will  avail  anything,  though  if  I  succeed  in 
getting  Mr.  Walter's  permission  to  write  for  you,  I  sup 
pose  Mr.  Tibbetts,  of  The  Pilgrim,  will  wish  me  to  do 
the  same  for  him,  when  he  returns.  I  called  at  the  Pil 
grim  office  this  morning,  and  his  partner,  Mr.  Elder,  said 


286  RUTH     HALL. 

that  he  was  out  of  town,  and  would  not  be  home  for  sev 
eral  days,  and  that  he  would  be  greatly  incensed  when  he 
heard  I  was  going  to  leave,  as  I  was  getting  very  popular 
with  his  subscribers.  Mr.  Elder  was  very  sorry  himself, 
but  he  treated  me  courteously.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Les- 
com,  I  think  you  had  better  write  to  Mr.  Walter,  as  well 
as  myself;  you  understand  such  matters,  and  can  proba 
bly  write  more  to  the  point  than  I  can." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Lescom,  "I  will  write  to  him 
at  once,  and  you  had  better  write  now  by  the  same  mail, 
and  have  the  letters  both  enclosed  in  one  envelope." 

Ruth  took  a  seat  at  the  editorial  table,  and  wrote  to 
Mr.  Walter.  The  letters  were  sent  at  once  to  the  Post- 
office,  so  as  to  catch  the  afternoon  mail,  and  Euth  took 
her  leave,  promising  to  call  on  the  morning  of  the  second 
day  after,  to  see  Mr.  Walter's  reply,  which,  judging  by 
his  usual  promptness,  would  arrive  by  that  time. 


CHAPTER   LXXI. 

"  AH!  another  letter  from  '  Floy,'  "  said  Mr.  Walter, 
as  he  seated  himself  in  his  office  ;  "  now  I  shall 
hear  how  Lescom  and  Tibbetts  &  Co.,  feel  about  losing 
her.  '  Floy '  had  probably  told  them  by  the  time  she 
wrote,  and  they  have  probably  told  her  that  she  owes  her 
reputation  to  them,  called  her  ungrateful,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing  ;  let  us  see  what  she  says." 

After  reading  ;  Floy's  '  letter,  Mr.  Walter  laid  it  down 
and  began  muttering  out  his  thoughts  after  his  usual 
fashion.  c;  Just  as  I  expected ;  Lescom  has  worked  on 
'  Floy's  '  kind  heart  till  she  really  feels  a  sort  of  necessity 
not  to  leave  him  so  abruptly,  and  requests  me  as  a  per- 
sonal  favor  to  grant  his  request,  at  least  for  a  time  ;  no, 
no,  '  Floy ' — not  unless  he  will  pay  you  five  times  as  much 
as  he  pays  you  now,  and  allow  you,  besides,  to  write 
much,  or  little,  as  you  please ;  but  where  is  Lescom's 


288  RUTH       HALL. 

communication  ?    Ruth  says  he  wrote  by  the  same  mail— 
ah,  here  it  is : 

"  MR.  WALTER  : 

SIR, — Mrs.  Hall,  ;  Floy,'  informs  me  that  you  have  en 
gaged  her  to  write  exclusively  for  the  Household  Mes 
senger,  and  that  you  will  not  consent  to  her  writing  for 
any  other  publication.  Perhaps  you  are  not  aware  that 
/  was  the  first  to  introduce  '  Floy '  to  the  public,  and  that  I 
have  made  her  reputation  what  it  is.  This  being  the 
case,  you  will  not  think  it  strange  that  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
some  claim  on  her,  so  long  as  I  pay  her  as  much  as  she 
can  get  elsewhere.  I  need  not  say  to  you  that  The 
Standard  is  in  a  very  flourishing  condition ;  its  circula 
tion  having  nearly  doubled  during  the  past  year,  and 
that  my  resources  are  such  as  to  enable  me  to  outbid  all 
competitors  for  '  Floy's '  services,  if  I  choose  to  take  such 
a  course ;  but  I  trust  you  will  at  once  perceive  that  the 
Standard  should  be  made  an  exception  to  your  contract, 
and  permit  '  Floy '  still  to  write  for  it. 

"  Respectfully  yours,  F.  LESCOM." 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Walter,  when 
he  had  finished  Mr.  Lescom's  letter ;  "  if  this  is  not  the 
coolest  piece  of  egotism  and  impudence  that  I  ever  saw ; 
but  it  is  no  use  wasting  vitality  about  it.  I  will  just  an 
swer  the  letter,  and  let  things  take  their  course ;  I  have 


RUTH       HALL.  289 

the  weather-gage  of  him  now,  and  I  '11  keep  it ;  he  shall 
have  my  reply  to  digest  the  first  thing  in  the  morning ; 
{  '11  write  to  «  Floy '  first,  though." 

On  the  designated  Thursday,  Ruth,  according  to  her 
promise,  called  at  the  Standard  office  ;  something  had  oc 
curred  to  detain  Mr.  Lescom,  so  she  sat  down  and  opened 
Mr.  Walter's  letter,  which  lay  on  the  table  waiting  for 
her,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  DEAR  RUTH  : 

"I  have  just  finished  reading  yours  and  Lescom's  letters. 
Yours  has  touched  me  deeply.  It  was  just  like  you,  but 
you  know  little  of  the  selfishness  and  humbuggery  of  some 
newspaper  publishers ;  you  seem  really  to  think  that  you 
ought  to  write  for  Mr.  Lescom,  if  he  so  much  desires  it. 
This  is  very  good  of  you,  and  very  amiable,  but  (forgive 
ray  want  of  gallantry)  very  foolish.  You  can  now  un 
derstand,  if  you  did  not  before,  why  I  desired  you  to  sign 
the  contract  by  return  mail.  I  was  afraid  if  you  went  to 
Mr.  Lescom,  or  Mr.  Tibbetts  of  the  Pilgrim,  before  sign 
ing  it,  that  they  would  impose  upon  your  good  womanly 
heart,  and  thereby  gain  an  unfair  advantage  over  you.  1 
wished  to  surprise  you  into  signing  the  contract,  that  I 
might  have  a  fair  and  righteous  advantage  over  them. 
And  now,  '  Floy,'  please  to  leave  the  whole  matter  to  rne. 
1  shall  not  consent  to  your  writing  for  any  paper,  unless 
the  proprietors  will  give  you  the  full  value  of  your  arti- 
13 


290  RUTH       HALL. 

cles — what  they  are  really  worth  to  them.  If  things 
turn  out  as  I  confidently  expect  they  will,  from  your  pres 
ent  popularity,  you  will  soon  be  in  a  state  of  comparative 
independence.  On  the  next  page  you  will  find  a  copy  of 
my  answer  to  Mr.  Lescom's  letter.  Please  keep  me  in 
formed  of  the  happenings  at  your  end  of  the  route. 

"  Yours  most  truly,         JOHN  WALTER." 


Euth  then  read  Mr.  Walter's  letter  to  Mr.  Lescom,  as 
follows : 


"  F.  LESCOM,  Esq. 

"  SIR, — Your  letter  in  regard  to  '  Floy,'  &c.,  is  at 
hand.  You  say,  that  perhaps  I  am  not  aware  that  you 
were  the  first  to  introduce  '  Floy'  to  the  public,  and 
that  you  have  made  her  reputation.  It  is  fortunate  for 
you  that  she  made  The  Standard  the  channel  of  her 
first  communications  to  the  public.  I  know  this  very 
well,  but  I  am  not  aware,  nor  do  I  believe,  that  you  have 
made  her  reputation ;  neither  do  I  think  that  you  believe 
this  yourself.  The  truth  is  simply  this ;  '  Floy'  is  a 
genius ;  her  writings,  wherever  published,  would  have  at 
tracted  attention,  and  stamped  the  writer  as  a  person  of 
extraordinary  talent ;  hence  her  fame  and  success,  the 
fruits  of  which  you  have  principally  reaped.  As  to 
4  Floy's'  being  under  any  obligations  to  you,  I  repudiate 
the  idea  entirely ;  the  '  obligation'  is  all  on  the  oH'er 


RUTH       HALL.  291 

side.  She  has  made  '  The  Standard,'  instead  of  you 
making  her  reputation.  Her  genius  has  borne  its  name 
to  England,  Scotland,  Ireland, — wherever  the  English 
language  is  spoken, — and  raised  it  from  an  obscure 
provincial  paper  to  a  widely-known  journal.  You  say 
that  you  are  wealthy,  and  can  pay  as  much  as  any 
body  for  '  Floy's'  services  ;  I  wonder  this  has  never  oc 
curred  to  you  before,  especially  as  she  has  informed 
you  frequently  how  necessitous  were  her  circumstances. 
You  also  inform  me  that  the  circulation  of  The 
Standard  has  nearly  doubled  the  past  year.  This  1 
can  readily  believe,  since  it  is  something  more  than  a 
year  since  '  Floy'  commenced  writing  for  it.  In  reply 
to  your  declaration,  '  that  in  case  you  are  driven  to  com 
pete  for  '  Floy's'  services,  you  can  outbid  all  competi 
tors,'  I  have  only  to  say  that  my  contract  with  her  is  for 
one  year  ;  on  its  expiration,  '  Floy'  will  be  at  liberty  to 
decide  for  herself;  you  will  then  have  an  opportunity  to 
compete  for  her  pen,  and  enjoy  the  privilege  of  exhibit 
ing  your  enterprise  and  liberality. 

"  Your  ob't  servant,  Jonx  WALTER." 

Ruth  waited  some  time  after  reading  these  letters,  for 
Mr.  Lescom  to  come  in  ;  but,  finding  he  was  still  unex 
pectedly  detained,  she  took  a  handful  of  letters,  which 
the  clerk  had  just  received  by  mail  for  her,  and  bent  her 
steps  homeward. 


CHAPTER    LXXII. 


fTlHE  first  letter  Euth  opened  on  her  return,  was  a  re- 
4-  quest  from  a  Professor  of  some  College  for  her  auto 
graph  for  himself  and  some  friends ;  the  second,  an  offer 
of  marriage  from  a  Southerner,  who  confessed  to  one 
hundred  negroes,  "  but  hoped  that  the  strength  and  ardor 
of  the  attachment  with  which  the  perusal  of  her  articles 
had  inspired  him,  would  be  deemed  sufficient  atonement 
for  this  in  her  Northern  eyes.  The  frozen  North,"  he  said, 
"had  no  claim  on  such  a  nature  as  hers;  the  sunny  South, 
the  land  of  magnolias  and  orange  blossoms,  the  land  of 
love,  should  be  her  chosen  home.  Would  she  not  smile  on 
him  1  She  should  have  a  box  at  the  opera,  a  carriage, 
and  servants  in  livery,  and  the  whole  heart  and  soul  of 
Victor  Le  Pont." 

The  next  was  more  interesting.  It  was  an  offer  to 
"  Floy"  from  a  publishing  house,  to  collect  her  newspa 
per  articles  into  a  volume.  They  offered  to  give  her  so 


R  U  T  H       HALL.  293 

much  on  a  copy,  or  8800  for  the  copyright.  An  answer 
was  requested  immediately.  In  the  same  mail  came 
another  letter  of  the  same  kind  from  a  distant  State,  also 
offering  to  publish  a  volume  of  her  articles. 

"  Well,  well."  soliloquized  Ruth,  "  business  is  accumu 
lating-     I  don't  see  but  I  shall  have  to  make  a  book  in 

O 

spite  of  myself;  and  yet  those  articles  were  written  under 
such  disadvantages,  would  it  be  wise  in  me  to  publish  so 
soon  ?  But  Katy  1  and  8800  copyright  money  ?"  Ruth 
glanced  round  her  miserable,  dark  room,  and  at  the  little 
stereotyped  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  that  stood  waiting 
on  the  table  for  her  supper  and  Nettie's  ;  $800  copyright 
money!  it  was  a  temptation;  but  supposing  her  book 
should  prove  a  hit  ?  and  bring  double,  treble,  fourfold 
that  sum,  to  go  into  her  publisher's  pockets  instead  of 
hers  ]  how  provoking !  Ruth  straightened  up,  and  put 
ting  on  a  very  resolute  air,  said,  "  No,  gentlemen,  I  will 
not  sell  you  my  copyright;  these  autograph  letters,  and  all 
the  other  letters  of  friendship,  love,  and  business,  I  am  con 
stantly  receiving  from  strangers,  are  so  many  proofs  that 
I  have  won  the  public  ear.  No,  I  will  not  sell  my  copy 
right  ;  I  will  rather  deny  myself  a  while  longer,  and  ac 
cept  the  per-centage  ;"  and  so  she  sat  down  and  wrote  her 
iers ;  but  then  caution  whispered,  what  if  her  book 
not  selH  "  Oh,  pshaw,"  said  Ruth,  "it  shall!" 
3  brought  her  little  fist  down  on  the  table  till  the 
ne  inkstand  seemed  to  rattle  out  "  it  shall  /" 


294  RUTH       HALL. 

"  Ah,  here  is  another  letter,  which  I  have  overlooked,'' 
said  Ruth. 


"  To  THE  DISTINGUISHED  AND  POPULAR  WRITER,  ' 

"  MADAM,  —  I  trust  you  will  excuse  the  liberty  I  take 
in  writing  you,  when  you  get  through  with  my  letter.  I 
am  thus  confident  of  your  leniency,  because  it  seems  to 
me  that  rny  case  is  not  only  a  plain,  but  an  interesting 
one.  To  come  to  the  point,  without  any  circumlocutory 
delay,  I  am  a  young  man  with  aspirations  far  above  my 
station  in  life.  This  declaration  is  perfectly  true  in  some 
senses,  but  not  in  every  sense.  My  parents  and  my  an 
cestors  are  and  were  highly  respectable  people.  My 
name,  as  you  will  see  when  you  come  to  my  signature,  is 
Reginald  Danby.  The  Dan  by  family,  Madam,  was 
founded  by  Sir  Reginald  Danby,  who  was  knighted  for 
certain  gallant  exploits  on  the  field  of  Hastings,  in  the 
year  1066,  by  William  the  Conqueror.  Sir  Reginald 
afterward  married  a  Saxon  dame,  named  Edith,  the 
daughter  of  a  powerful  land-owner  ;  hence  the  Danby 
family.  All  this  is  of  very  little  consequence,  and  I  only 
mention  it  in  a  sort  of  incidental  way,  to  show  you  that 
my  declaration  in  regard  to  the  respectability  of  my 
family  is  true,  and  fortified  by  unimpeachable  histori 
cal  evidence  ;  and  I  will  here  remark,  that  you  will  always  f 
find  any  assertion  of  mine  as  well  sustained,  by  copious 
and  irrefragable  proof. 


R  U  T  II       HALL.  295 

"The  respectability  of  our  family  being  thus  settled 
I  come  back  to  an  explanation  of  what  I  mean  by  my 
4  having  aspirations  above  my  station  in  life.'  It  is  this  : 
I  am  i-oor.  My  family,  though  once  wealthy,  is  now  im 
poverished.  The  way  this  state  of  things  came  about, 
was  substantially  as  follows  :  My  grandfather,  who  was  ;: 
strong-minded,  thrifty  gentleman,  married  into  a  poetiea; 
family.  His  wife  was  the  most  poetical  member  of  said 
family ;  much  of  her  poetry  is  still  extant ;  j£  never  was 
published,  because  in  those  days  publishers  were  not  as 
enterprising  as  they  are  now.  We  value  these  manu 
scripts  very  highly  ;  still  I  should  be  willing  to  send  you 
some  of  them  for  perusal,  in  case  you  will  return  them 
and  pny  the  postage  both  ways,  my  limited  means  not 
permitting  me  to  share  that  pleasure  with  you.  As  I 
have  intimated,  my  grandmother  reveled  in  poetry. 
She  doated  on  Shakspeare,  and  about  three  months  be 
fore  my  father's  birth,  she  went  to  a  theatre  to  witness 
the  performance  of  '  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream.' 
She  was  enchanted !  and,  with  characteristic  decision,  re 
solved  to  commit  the  entire  play  to  memory.  This  reso 
lution  she  executed  with  characteristic  pertinacity,  not 
withstanding  frequent  and  annoying  interruptions,  from 
various  causes  entirely  beyond  her  control.  She  finished 
committing  this  immortal  poem  to  memory,  the  very 
night  my  father  was  born.  Time  rolled  on  ;  my  father,  as 
he  grew  up,  exhibited  great  flightiness  of  character,  and 


296  RUTH       HALL. 

instability  of  purpose,  the  result,  undoubtedly,  of  his 
mother's  committing  '  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream' 
to  memory  under  the  circumstances  which  I  have  de 
tailed.  My  father,  owing  to  this  unfortunate  develop 
ment  of  character,  proved  inadequate  to  the  management 
of  his  estate,  or,  indeed,  of  any  business  whatever,  and 
hence  our  present  pecuniary  embarrassments.  Before 
quitting  this  painful  branch  of  my  subject,  it  will  doubt 
less  gratify  you  to  have  me  state,  that,  inasmuch  as  my 
father  married  a  woman  of  phlegmatic  temperament,  and 
entirely  unpoetical  mind,  the  balance  of  character  has 
been  happily  restored  to  our  family,  so  there  is  no  fear 
for  me.  I  am  thus  particular  in  my  statements,  because 
I  have  a  high  regard  for  truth,  and  for  veracity,  for  ac 
curacy  in  the  minutest  things  ;  a  phase  of  character  which 
may  be  accounted  for  from  the  fact,  that  I  have  just  gone 
through  a  severe  and  protracted  course  of  mathematics. 
These  preliminaries  being  thus  fairly  before  you,  I  now 
come  to  the  immediate  topic  of  my  letter,  viz.  :  I  wish  to 
go  through  College  ;  I  have  not  the  means.  I  wish  you 
to  help  me.  You  are  probably  rich  ;  I  hope  you  are  with 
all  my  heart.  You  must  be  able  to  command  a  high 
salary,  and  a  great  deal  of  influence.  I  don't  ask  you  to 
lend  me  the  money  out  of  hand.  What  I  propose  is 
this :  I^will^  furnish  you  the  subject  for  a  splendid  and 
thrilling  story,  founded  on  facts  in  the  history  of  our 
family  ;  the  Danby  family.  In  this  book,  my  grand- 


RUTH       HALL.  297 

mother's  poetry  would  probably  read  to  advantage ;  if  so, 
it  would  be  a  great  saving,  as  her  writings  are  volumi 
nous.  Your  book  would  be  sure  to  have  a  large  sale, 
and  the  profits  \vould  pay  my  expenses  at  College,  and 
perhaps  leave  a  Targe  surplus.  This  surplus  should  be 
yours,  and  I  would  also  agree  to  pay  back  the  sum  used 
by  me  from  my  first  earnings  after  graduation.  I  have 
thought  over  this  matter  a  great  deal,  and  the  foregoing 
strikes  me  as  the  only  way  in  which  this  thing  can  be 
done.  If  you  can  devise  a  better  plan,  I  will  of  course 
gladly  adopt  it.  I  am  not  at  all  opinionated,  but  am  al 
ways  glad  to  listen  to  anything  reasonable.  Please  let 
me  hear  from  you  as  soon  as  possible,  and  believe  me 
truly  your  friend  and  admirer, 

"REGINALD  DANBY." 
13* 


CHAPTER    LXXIII. 

Tl/TR.  T1BBETTS,  the  editor  of  "  The  Pilgrim,"  having 
returned  from  the  country,  Ruth  went  to  the  Pil 
grim  office  to  get  copies  of  several  of  her  articles,  which 
she  had  taken  no  pains  to  keep,  never  dreaming  of  repub- 
lishing  them  in  book  form. 

Mr.  Tibbetts  was  sitting  at  his  editorial  desk,  looking 
over  a  pile  of  manuscript.  Ruth  made  known  her  errand, 
and  also  the  fact  of  her  being  about  to  publish  her  book. 
He  handed  her  a  chair,  and  drawing  another  in  front 
of  her,  said  very  stiffly,  "  My  partner,  Mr.  Elder,  Mrs. 
Hall,  has  astonished  me  by  the  information  that  you  have 
very  suddenly  decided  to  withdraw  from  us,  who  first 
patronized  you,  and  to  write  for  the  '  Household  Messen- 
ger.'" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ruth,  "  I  considered  it  my  duty  to  avail 
myself  of  that  increase  of  salary.  My  circumstances 
have  been  exceedingly  straitened.  I  have  two  little  ones 


RUTH       It  ALL.  299 

dependent  on  my  exertions,  and  their  future,  as  well  as 
my  own,  to  look  to.  You  have  often  told  me  that  you 
already  paid  me  all  you  could  afford,  so  it  was  useless  to 
ask  you  for  more ;  beside,  the  contract  I  have  accepted, 
obliged  me  to  decline  or  accept  it  by  return  of  mail,  with 
out  communicating  its  contents." 

"  Ah  !  I  see — I  see,"  said  Mr.  Tibbetts,  growing  very 
red  in  the  face,  and  pushing  back  his  chair ;  "  it  is  always 
the  way  young  writers  treat  those  who  have  made  their 
reputation." 

"  Perhaps  your  making  my  reputation,  may  be  a  ques 
tion  open  to  debate,"  answered  Ruth,  stung  by  his  tone  ; 
"  I  feel  this  morning,  however,  disinclined  to  discuss  the 
question  ;  so,  if  you  please,  we  will  waive  it.  You  have 
always  told  me  that  you  were  constantly  beset  by  the 
most  talented  contributors  for  patronage,  so  that  of  course 
you  will  not  find  it  difficult  to  supply  my  place,  when  I 
leave  you." 

"  But  you  shall  not  leave,"  said  Mr.  Tibbetts,  turning 
very  pale  about  the  mouth,  and  closing  his  lips  firmly. 

"  Shall  not  /"  repeated  Ruth,  rising,  and  standing  erect 
before  him.  "  Shall  not,  Mr.  Tibbetts  ?  I  have  yet  to 
learn  that  I  am  not  free  to  go,  if  I  choose." 

"  Well,  you  are  not?  said  Mr.  Tibbetts ;  "  that  is  a 
little  mistake  of  yours,  as  I  will  soon  convince  you.  Dis 
continue  writing  for  '  The  Pilgrim,'  and  I  will  immedi 
ately  get  out  a  cheap  edition  of  your  articles,  and  spoil 


300  RUTH     HALL. 

the  sale  of  your  book  ;"  and  lie  folded  his  arms,  and  faced 
Ruth  as  if  he  would  say,  "  Now  writhe  if  you  like  ;  I  have 
you." 

Ruth  smiled  derisively,  then  answered  in  a  tone  so  low 
that  it  was  scarcely  audible,  "  Mr.  Tibbetts,  you  have 
mistaken  your  auditor.  I  am  not  to  be  frightened,  or 
threatened,  or  insulted"  said  she,  turning  toward  the 
door.  "  Even  had  I  not  myself  the  spirit  to  defy  you,  as 
I  now  do,  for  I  will  never  touch  pen  to  paper  again  for 
( The  Pilgrim,'  you  could  not  accomplish  your  threat ;  for 
think  you  my  publishers  will  tamely  fold  their  arms,  and 
see  their  rights  infringed  ?  No,  sir,  you  have  mistaken 
both  them  and  me  ;"  and  Ruth  moved  toward  the  door. 

"  Stay  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Tibbetts,  placing  his  hand  on 
the  latch ;  "  when  you  see  a  paragraph  in  print  that  will 
sting  your  proud  soul  to  the  quick,  know  that  John  Tib 
betts  has  more  ways  than  one  of  humbling  so  imperious 
a  dame." 

"  That  will  be  hardly  consistent,"  replied  Ruth,  in  the 
same  calm  tone,  "  with  the  thousand-and-one  commend 
atory  notices  of '  Floy ' — the  boasts  you  have  made  of  tho 
almost  exclusive  right  t'o  the  valuable  services  of  so  bright 
a  literary  star" 

"  Of  course  you  will  not  see  such  a  paragraph  in  my 
paper,"  replied  Mr.  Tibbetts.  "  I  am  aware,  most  logical 
of  women,  that  I  stand  committed  before  the  public  there  ; 
but  I  have  many  an  editorial  friend,  scattered  over  the 


HALL.  301 

country,  who  would  loan  me  their  columns  for  this  pur 
pose." 

"As  you  please,"  said  Ruth.  "It  were  a  manly  act; 
but  your  threat  does  not  move  ?ne." 

"I'll  have  my  revenge !"  exclaimed  Tibbetts,  as  the 
last  fold  of  Ruth's  dress  fluttered  out  the  door. 


CHAPTER    LXXIV. 

FTIHOSE  of  my  readers  who  are  well  acquainted  with 
T"  journalism,  know  that  some  of  our  newspapers,  nom 
inally  edited  by  the  persons  whose  names  appear  as 
responsible  in  that  capacity,  seldom,  perhaps  never  contain 
an  article  from  their  pen,  the  whole  paper  being  "  made 
up  "  by  some  obscure  individual,  with  more  brains  than 
pennies,  whose  brilliant  paragraphs,  metaphysical  essays, 
and  racy  book  reviews,  are  attributed  (and  tacitly  fa 
thered)  by  the  comfortably-fed  gentlemen  who  keep 
these,  their  factotums,  in  some  garret,  just  one  degree 
above  starving  point.  In  the  city,  where  board  is  expen 
sive,  and  single  gentlemen  are  "  taken  in  and  done  for," 
under  many  a  sloping  attic  roof  are  born  thoughts  which 
should  win  for  their  originators  fame  and  independence. 

Mr.  Horace  Gates,  a  gentlemanly,  slender,  scholar-like- 
looking  person,  held  this  nondescript,  and  unrecognized 
relation  to  the  Irving  Magazine ;  the  nominal  editor, 


RUTH       HALL.  303 

Ruth's  brother  Hyacinth,  furnishing  but  one  article  a 
week,  to  deduct  from  the  immense  amount  of  labor 
necessary  to  their  weekly  issue. 

"  Heigho,"  said  Mr.  Gates,  dashing  down  his  pen  ; 
"  four  columns  yet  to  make  up  ;  I  am  getting  tired  of  this 
drudgery.  My  friend  Seaten  told  me  that  he  was  dining 
at  a  restaurant  the  other  day,  when  my  employer,  Mr. 
Hyacinth  Ellet,  came  in,  and  that  a  gentleman  took  oc 
casion  to  say  to  Mr.  E.,  how  much  he  admired  his  arti 
cle  in  the  last  Irving  Magazine,  on  '  City  Life.'  His  ar 
ticle  !  it  took  me  one  of  the  hottest  days  this  season,  in 
this  furnace  of  a  garret,  with  the  beaded  drops  standing 
on  my  suffering  forehead,  to  write  that  article,  which,  by 
the  way,  has  been  copied  far  and  wide.  His  article  !  and 
the  best  of  the  joke  is  (Seaten  says)  the  cool  way  in 
which  Ellet  thanked  him,  and  pocketed  all  the  credit  of  it ! 
But  what 's  this  ?  here  's  a  note  from  the  very  gentleman 
himself : 

"  MR.  GATES  : 

•'  SIR, — I  have  noticed  that  you  have  several  times  scis- 
sorized  from  the  exchanges,  articles  over  the  signature  of 
'  Floy,'  and  inserted  them  in  our  paper.  It  is  my  wish 
that  all  articles  bearing  that  signature  should  be  ex 
cluded  from  our  paper,  and  that  no  allusion  be  made  to  her, 
in  any  way  or  shape,  in  the  columns  of  the  Irving  Maga 
zine.  As  you  are  in  our  business  confidence,  I  may  say, 


304  R  U  T  H       HALL. 

that  the  writer  is  a  sister  of  mine,  and  that  it  would 
annoy  and  mortify  me  exceedingly  to  have  the  fact 
known  ;  and  it  is  my  express  wish  that  you  should  not, 
hereafter,  in  any  way,  aid  in  circulating  her  articles. 

"  Yours,  &o.,  HYACINTH  ELLET." 

"What  does  that  mean1?"  said  Gates;  "his  sister? 
why  don't  he  want  her  to  write  1  I  have  cut  out  every 
article  of  hers  as  fast  as  they  appeared  ;  confounded  good 
they  are,  too,  and  I  call  myself  a  judge ;  they  are  better, 
at  any  rate,  than  half  our  paper  is  filled  with.  This  is 
all  very  odd — it  stimulates  my  curiosity  amazingly — his 
sister  ?  married  or  unmarried,  maid,  wife,  or  widow  ? 
She  can't  be  poor  when  he's  so  well  off;  (gave  $100  for 
a  vase  which  struck  his  fancy  yesterday,  at  Martini's.) 
I  don't  understand  it.  '  Annoy  and  mortify  him  exceed 
ingly  ;'  what  can  he  mean  ?  I  must  get  at  the  bottom  of 
that ;  she  is  becoming  very  popular,  at  any  rate ;  her 
pieces  are  traveling  all  over  the  country — and  here  is 
one,  to  my  mind,  as  good  as  anything  he  ever  wrote. 
Ha  !  ha !  perhaps  that 's  the  very  idea  now — perhaps  he 
wants  to  be  the  only  genius  in  the  family.  Let  him  !  if 
he  can  ;  if  she  don't  win  an  enviable  name,  and  in  a  very 
short  time  too,  I  shall  be  mistaken.  I  wish  I  knew  some 
thing  about  her.  Hyacinth  is  a  heartless  dog — pays  me 
principally  in  fine  speeches ;  and  because  I  am  not  in  a 
position  just  now  to  speak  my  mind  about  it,  I  suppose 


R  U  T  H       HALL.  305 

he  takes  me  for  the  pliant  tool  I  appear,  By  Jupiter  !  it 
makes  my  blood  boil  ;  but  let  me  get  another  and  better 
offer,  Mr.  Ellet,  and  see  how  long  I  will  write  articles  for 
you  to  father,  in  this  confounded  hot  garret.  '  His  sis 
ter  !'  I  will  inquire  into  that.  I  '11  bet  a  box  of  cigars 
she  writes  for  daily  bread — Heaven  help  her,  if  she  does, 
poor  thing  ! — it 's  hard  enough,  as  I  know,  for  a  man  to 
be  jostled  and  snubbed  round  in  printing-offices.  AY  ell, 
well,  it  's  no  use  wondering,  I  must  go  to  work  ;  what  a 
pile  of  books  here  is  to  be  reviewed !  wonder  who 
reads  all  the  books  ?  Here  is  Uncle  Sam's  Log  House. 
Mr.  Ellet  writes  me  that  I  must  simply  announce  the 
book  without  comment,  for  fear  of  offending  southern 
subscribers.  The  word  '  slave '  I  know  has  been  ta 
booed  in  our  columns  this  long  while,  for  the  same  rea 
son.  Here  are  poems  by  Lina  Lintney — weak  as  diluted 
water,  but  the  authoress  once  paid  Mr.  Ellet  a  compli 
ment  in  a  newspaper  article,  and  here  is  her  '  reward  of 
merit,'  (in  a  memorandum  attached  to  the  book,  and  just 
sent  down  by  Mr.  Ellet;)  'give  this  volume  a  first-rate 
notice.'  Bah  !  what 's  the  use  of  criticism  when  a  man's 
opinion  can  be  bought  and  sold  that  way  ?  it  is  an  im 
position  on  the  public.  There  is  '  The  Barolds '  too ;  I 
am  to  '  give  that  a  capital  notice,'  because  the  authoress 
introduced  Mr.  Ellet  into  fashionable  society  when  a 
young  man.  The  grammar  in  that  book  would  give 
Lindley  Murray  convulsions,  and  the  construction  of  the 


306  RUTH       HALL. 

sentences  drive  Blair  to  a  mad-house.  Well,  a  great 
deal  the  dear  public  know  what  a  book  is,  by  the  reviews 
of  it  in  this  paper.  Heaven  forgive  me  the  lies  I  tell 
this  way  on  compulsion. 

"  The  humbuggery  of  this  establishment  is  only  equalled 
by  the  gullability  of  the  dear  public.  Once  a  month, 
now,  I  am  ordered  to  puff  every  4  influential  paper  in  the 
Union.'  to  ward  off  attacks  on  the  Irving  Magazine,  and 
the  bait  takes,  too,  by  Jove.  That  little  '  Tea-Table  Tri- 
Mountain  Mercury,'  has  not  muttered  or  peeped  about 
Hyacinth's  '  toadyism  when  abroad,'  since  Mr.  Ellet  gave 
me  orders  to  praise  '  the  typographical  and  literary  ex 
cellence  of  that  widely-circulated  paper.'  Then,  there  is 
the  editor  of  '  The  Bugbear,'  a  cut-and-thrust-bludgeon- 
pen-and-ink-desperado,  who  makes  the  mincing,  aristo 
cratic  Hyacinth  quake  in  his  patent-leather  boots.  I  have 
orders  to  toss  him  a  sugar-plum  occasionally,  to  keep  his 
plebeian  mouth  shut ;  something  after  the  French  maxim, 
'  always  to  praise  a  person  for  what  they  are  not ;' — for 
instance,  '  our  very  gentlemanly  neighbor  and  contempo 
rary,  the  discriminating  .and  refined  editor  of  The  Bug 
bear,  whose  very  readable  and  spicy  paper,'  &c.,  &c. 
Then,  there  is  the  religious  press.  Hyacinth,  having  ra 
ther  a  damaged  reputation,  is  anxious  to  enlist  them  on  his 
side,  particularly  the  editor  of  '  The  Religious  Platform.' 
I  am  to  copy  at  least  one  of  his  editorials  once  a  fort 
night,  or  in  some  way  call  attention  to  his  paper.  Then, 


R  U  T  II       HALL.  307 

if  Hyacinth  chooses  to  puff  actresses,  and  call  Mine. 

a  l  splendid  personation  of  womanhood,'  and  praise  her 
equivocal  writings  in  his  paper,  which  lies  on  many  a 
family  table  to  be  read  by  innocent  young  girls,  he 
knows  the  caustic  pen  of  that  religious  editor  will  never 
be  dipped  in  ink  to  reprove  him.  That  is  the  way  it  is 
done.  Mutual  admiration-society — bull !  I  wish  /  had 
a  paper.  Would  n't  I  call  things  by  their  right  names  1 
Would  I  know  any  sex  in  books  I  Would  I  praise 
a  book  because  a  woman  wrote  it  ?  Would  I  abuse  it 
for  the  same  reason  ?  Would  I  say,  as  one  of  our  most 
able  editors  said  not  long  since  to  his  reviewer,  'cut 
it  up  root  and  branch  ;  what  right  have  these  women  to 
set  themselves  up  for  authors,  and  reap  literary  laurels  T 
Would  I  unfairly  insert  all  the  adverse  notices  of  a  book, 
and  never  copy  one  in  its  praise  ?  Would  I  pass  over 
the  wholesale  swindling  of  some  aristocratic  scoundrel, 
and  trumpet  in  my  police  report,  with  heartless  com 
ments,  the  name  of  some  poor,  tempted,  starving 
wretch,  far  less  deserving  of  censure,  in  God's  eye,  than 
myself?  Would  I  have  my  tongue  or  my  pen  tied  in 
any  way  by  policy,  or  interest,  or  clique-ism  ?  No — sir  ! 
The  world  never  will  see  a  paper  till  mine  is  started. 
Would  I  write  long  descriptions  of  the  wardrobe  of  for 
eign  prima  donnas,  who  bring  their  cracked  voices,  and 
reputations  to  our  American  market,  and  '  occupy  suites 
of  rooms  lined  with  satin,  and  damask,  and  velvet,'  and 


308 


RUTH       HALL. 


goodness  knows  what,  and  give  their  reception-soirees,  at 
which  they  '  affably  notice '  our  toadying  first  citizens  1 
By  Jupiter  !  why  should  n't  they  be  '  affable  '  ?  Don't 
they  come  over  here  for  our  money  and  patronage  1 

Who  cares  how  many  '  bracelets '  Signora had  on, 

or  whose  '  arm  she  leaned  gracefully  upon,'  or  whether 
her  '  hair  was  braided  or  curled '  ?  If,  because  a  lord  or  a 
duke  once  '  honored  her  '  by  insulting  her  with  infamous 
proposals,  some  few  brainless  Americans  choose  to  deify 
her  as  a  goddess,  in  the  name  of  George  Washington  and 
common  sense,  let  it  not  be  taken  as  a  national  exponent. 
There  are  some  few  Americans  left,  who  prefer  ipecac  in 
homoeopathic  doses." 


CHAPTER    LXXV. 


"  TTARK !  Nettie.     Go  to  the  door,  dear,"  said  Ruth, 

-*"*•  "  some  one  knocked." 

"  It  is  a  strange  gentleman,  mamma,"  whispered  Nettie, 
"  and  he  wants  to  see  you." 

Ruth  bowed  as  the  stranger  entered.  She  could  not 
recollect  that  she  had  ever  seen  him  before,  but  he  looked 
very  knowing,  and,  what  was  very  provoking,  seemed  to 
enjoy  her  embarrassment  hugely.  He  regarded  Nettie, 
too,  with  a  very  scrutinizing  look,  and  seemed  to  devour 
everything  with  the  first  glance  of  his  keen,  searching  eye. 
He  even  seemed  to  listen  to  the  whir — whir — whir  of 
the  odd  strange  lodger  in  the  garret  overhead. 

"  I  don't  recollect  you,"'  said  Ruth,  hesitating,  and 
blushing  slightly  ;  t;  you  have  the  advantage  of  me,  sir  ?" 

"  And  yet  you  and  I  have  been  writing  to  each  other, 
for  a  week  or  more,"  replied  the  gentleman,  with  a  good- 
humored  smile ;  "  you  have  even  signed  a  contract,  en 
titling  me  to  your  pen-and-ink  services." 


310  RUTH      HALL. 

"  Mr.  Walter  ?"  said  Ruth,  holding  out  her  hand. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Walter,  "  I  had  business  this  way, 
and  I  could  not  come  here  without  finding  you  out." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,''  said  Ruth,  "  I  was  just  wishing  that 
I  had  some  head  wiser  than  mine,  to  help  me  decide  on  a 
business  matter  which  came  up  two  or  three  days  ago. 
Somehow  I  don't  feel  the  least  reluctance  to  bore  you 
with  it,  or  a  doubt  that  your  advice  will  not  be  just  the 
thing ;  but  I  shall  not  stop  to  dissect  the  philosophy  of 
that  feeling,  lest  in  grasping  at  the  shadow,  I  should  lose 
the  substance,"  said  she,  smiling. 

While  Ruth  was  talking,  Mr.  Walter's  keen  eye 
glanced  about  the  room,  noting  its  general  comfortless 
appearance,  and  the  little  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  that 
stood  waiting  for  their  supper.  Ruth  observed  this,  and 
blushed  deeply.  When  she  looked  again  at  Mr.  Walter, 
his  eyes  were  glistening  with  tears. 

"  Come  here,  my  darling,"  said  he  to  Nettie,  trying  to 
hide  his  emotion. 

"  I  don't  know  you,"  answered  Nettie. 

"  But  you  will,  my  dear,  because  I  am  your  mamma's 
friend." 

"  Are  you  Katy's  friend1?"  asked  Nettie. 

"  Katy  ?"  repeated  Mr.  Walter. 

"  Yes,  my  sister  Katy  ;  she  can't  live  here,  because  wo 
don't  have  supper  enough  ;  pretty  soon  mamma  will  earn 
more  supper,  won't  you  mamma  ?  Shan't  you  be  glad 


R  U  1  II       H  A  L  L.  311 

when  Katy  comes  home,  and  we  all  have  enough  to  eat  1" 
said  the  child  to  Mr.  Walter. 

Mr.  Walter  pressed  his  lips  to  the  child's  forehead 
with  a  low  "  Yes,  my  darling;"  and  then  placed  his  water 
chain  and  seals  at  her  disposal,  fearing  Ruth  might  be 
painfully  affected  by  her  artless  prattle. 

Ruth  then  produced  the  different  publishers'  offers  she 
had  received  for  her  book,  and  handed  them  to  Mr. 
Walter. 

'•  Well,"  said  he,  with  a  gratified  smile,  "  I  am  not  at 
all  surprised  ;  but  what  are  you  going  to  reply  ?" 

"  Here  is  my  answer,"  said  Ruth,  "  i.  e.  provided 
your  judgment  endorses  it.  I  am  a  novice  in  such  mat 
ters,  you  know,  but  I  cannot  help  thinking,  Mr.  Walter, 
that  my  book  will  be  a  success.  You  will  s<*e  that  I  have 
acted  upon  that  impression,  and  refused  to  sell  my  copy 
right.1' 

"  You  don't  approve  it  ]"  said  she,  looking  a  little  con 
fused,  as  Mr.  Walter  bent  his  keen  eyes  on  her,  without 
replying. 

"  But  I  do  though,"  said  he  ;  "  I  was  only  thinking  how 
excellent  a  substitute  strong  common-sense  may  be  for, 
experience.  Your  answer  is  brief,  concise,  sagacious,  and 
business-like;  I  endorse  i!  unhesitatingly.  It  is  just  what 
I  should  have  advised  you  to  write.  You  arc  correct  in 
thinking  that  your  book  will  be  popular,  and  wise  in 
keeping  the  copyright  in  your  own  hands.  In  how  in- 


312  RUTH      HALL. 

credibly  short  a  time  you  have  gained  a  literary  reputa 
tion,  Floy." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ruth,  smiling,  "it  is  all  like  a 
dream  to  me  ;"  and  then  the  smile  faded  away,  and  she 
shuddered  involuntarily  as  the  recollection  of  all  her 
struggles  and  sufferings  came  vividly  up  to  her  remem 
brance. 

Swiftly  the  hours  fled  away  as  Mr.  Walter,  with  a 
brother's  freedom,  questioned  Ruth  as  to  her  past  life  and 
drew  from  her  the  details  of  her  eventful  history. 

"  Thank  God,  the  morning  dawneth,"  said  he  in  a  sub 
dued  tone,  as  he  pressed  Ruth's  hand,  and  bade  her  a 
parting  good-night. 

Ruth  closed  the  door  upon  Mr.  Walter's  retreating 
figure,  and  sat  down  to  peruse  the  following  letters,  which 
had  been  sent  her  to  Mr.  Walter's  care,  at  the  Household 
Messenger  office. 

"  MRS.  OR  Miss  '  FLOY  :' 

"  Permit  me  to  address  you  on  a  subject  which  lies 
near  my  heart,  which  is,  in  fact,  a  subject  of  pecuniary 
importance  to  the  person  now  addressing  you.  My  story 
is  to  me  a  painful  one ;  it  would  doubtless  interest  you ; 
were  it  written  and  published,  it  would  be  a  thrilling 
tale. 

u  Some  months  since  I  had  a  lover  whom  1  adored,  and 
who  said  he  adored  me.  But  as  Shakspeare  has  said, 


RUTH       HALL.  241 

mistake  occur  in  one  of  her  articles.  She  must  write  very 
legibly,  for  type-setters  were  sometimes  sad  bunglers, 
making  people  accountable  for  words  that  would  set  Wor 
cester's  or  Webster's  hair  on  end  ;  but,  poor  things,  they 
worked  hard  too — they  had  their  sorrows,  thinking,  long 
into  the  still  night,  as  they  scattered  the  types,  more  of 
their  dependent  wives  and  children,  than  of  the  orthog 
raphy  of  a  word,  or  the  rhetoric  of  a  sentence. 

Scratch — scratch — scratch,  went  Ruth's  pen  ;  the  dim 
lamp  flickering  in  the  night  breeze,  while  the  deep  breath 
ing  of  the  little  sleepers  was  the  watchword,  On  !  to 
her  throbbing  brow  and  weary  lingers.  One  o'clock — 
two  o'clock — three  o'clock — the  fPhp  burns  low  in  the 
socket.  Ruth  lays  down  her  pen,  and  pushing  back  the 
hair  from  her  forehead,  leans  faint  and  exhausted  against 
the  window-sill,  that  the  cool  night-air  may  fan  her  heated 
temples.  How  impressive  the  stillness !  Ruth  can 
almost  hear  her  own  heart  beat.  She  looks  upward,  and 
the  watchful  stars  seem  to  her  like  the  eyes  of  gentle 
friends.  No,  God  would  not  forsake  her!  A  sweet 
peace  steals  into  her  troubled  heart,  and  the  overtasked 
lids  droop  heavily  over  the  weary  eyes. 

Ruth  sleeps. 


Daylight !     Morning  so  soon  ?     All   night   Ruth   has 

leaned  writh  her  head  on  the  window-sill,  and  now  she 
11 


242  RUTH       HALL. 

wakes  unrefreshed  from  the  constrained  posture  ;  but  she 
has  no  time  to  heed  that,  for  little  Nettie  lies  moaning  in 
her  bed  with  pain ;  she  lifts  the  little  creature  in  her  lap, 
rocks  her  gently,  and  kisses  her  cheek ;  but  still  little 
Nettie  moans.  Ruth  goes  to  the  drawer  and  looks  in 
her  small  purse  (Harry's  gift) ;  it  is  empty !  then  she 
clasps  her  hands  and  looks  again  at  little  Nettie.  Must 
Nettie  die  for  want  of  care  ?  Oh,  if  Mr.  Lescom  would 
only  advance  her  the  money  for  the  contributions  he  had 
accepted,  but  he  said  so  decidedly  that  "  it  was  a  rule  he 
never  departed  from  ;"  and  there  were  yet  five  long  days 
before  the  next  paper  would  be  out.  Five  days  !  what 
might  not  happen  to  Jjtettie  in  five  days  1  There  was  her 
cousin,  Mrs.  Millet',  mrc  she  had  muffled  her  furniture  in 
linen  wrappers,  and  gone  to  the  springs  with  her  family, 
for  the  summer  months ;  there  was  her  father,  but  had 
he  not  said  "  Remember,  if  you  will  burden  yourself  with 
your  children,  you  must  not  look  to  me  for  help."  Kiss 
ing  little  Nettie's  cheek  she  lays  her  gently  on  the  bed, 
whispering  in  a  husky  voice,  "  only  a  few  moments,  Net 
tie  ;  mamma  will  be  back  soon."  She  closes  the  door 
upon  the  sick  child,  and  stands  with  her  hand  upon  her 
bewildered  brow,  thinking. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam ;  the  entry  is  so  very  dark 
I  did  not  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Bond ;  "  you  are  as  early  a 
riser  as  myself." 


RUTH       HALL.  243 

"  My  child  is  sick,"  answered  Ruth,  tremulously ;  "  I 
was  just  going  out  for  medicine." 

"  If  you  approve  of  Homoeopathy,"  said  Mr.  Bond, 
"  and  will  trust  me  to  prescribe,  there  will  be  no  neces 
sity  for  your  putting  yourself  to  that  trouble  ;  I  always 
treat  myself  homoeopathically  in  sickness,  and  happen  to 
have  a  small  supply  of  those  medicines  by  me." 

Ruth's  natural  independence  revolted  at  the  idea  of 
receiving  a  favor  from  a  stranger. 

'•  Perhaps  you  disapprove  of  Homoeopathy,"  said  Mr. 
Bond,  mistaking  the  cause  of  her  momentary  hesitation ; 
"  it  works  like  a  charm  with  children  ;  but  if  you  prefer 
not  to  try  it,  allow  me  to  go  out  ^dA  procure  you  AV hat- 
ever  you  desire  in  the  way  of  medicine  ;  you  will  not 
then  be  obliged  to  leave  your  child." 

Here  was  another  dilemma — what  should  Ruth  do  ? 
Why,  clearly  accept  his  first  offer  5  there  was  an  air  of 
goodness  and  sincerity  about  him,  which,  added  to  his 
years,  seemed  to  invite  her  confidence. 

Mr.  Bond  stepped  in,  looked  at  Nettie,  and  felt  her 
pulse,  "  Ah,  little  one,  we  will  soon  have  you  better," 
said  he,  as  he  left  the  room  to  obtain  his  little  package 
of  medicines. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Ruth,  with  a  grateful  smile,  as  he 
administered  to  Nettie  some  infinitesimal  pills. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Bond.  "  I  learned  two 
years  since  to  doctor  myself  in  this  way,  and  I  have  o£ 


244  RUTH       HALL. 

ten  had  the  pleasure  of  relieving  others  in  emergencies 
like  this,  from  my  little  Homoeopathic  stores.  You  will 
find  that  your  little  girl  will  soon  fall  into  a  sweet  sleep, 
and  awake  much  relieved ;  if  you  are  careful  with  her, 
she  will,  I  think,  need  nothing  more  in  the  way  of  medi 
cine,  or  if  she  should,  my  advice  is  quite  at  your  ser 
vice  ;"  and,  taking  his  pitcher  of  water  in  his  hand,  he 
bowed  respectfully,  and  wished  Ruth  good  morning. 

Who  was  he  ?  what  was  he  ?  Whir — whir — there 
was  the  noise  again !  That  he  was  a  man  of  refined  and 
courteous  manners,  was  very  certain.  Ruth  felt  glad  ho 
was  so  much  her  senior ;  he  seemed  so  like  what  Ruth 
had  sometimes  dreamed  a  kind  father  might  be,  that  it 
lessened  the  weight  of  the  obligation.  Already  little 
Nettie  had  ceased  moanmg ;  her  little  lids  began  to  droop, 
and  her  skin,  which  had  been  hot  and  feverish,  became 
moist  and  cool.  "  May  God  reward  him,  whoever  he 
may  be,"  said  Ruth.  "  Surely  it  is  blessed  to  trust  /" 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

TT  was  four  o'clock  of  a  hot  August  afternoon  The 
•*•  sun  had  crept  round  to  the  front  piazza  of  the  doctor's 
cottage.  No  friendly  trees  warded  off  his  burning  rays, 
for  the  doctor  "  liked  a  prospect ;"  i.  c.  he  liked  to  sit  at 
the  window  and  count  the  different  trains  which  whizzed 
past  in  the  course  of  the  day ;  the  number  of  wagons, 
and  gigs,  and  carriages,  that  rolled  lazily  up  the  hill ;  to 
see  the  village  engine,  the  "  Cataract,"  drawn  out  on  the 

O  o  5 

green  for  its  weekly  ablutions,  and  to  count  the  bundles 
of  shingles  that  it  took  to  roof  over  Squire  Ruggles' 
new  barn.  No  drooping  vines,  therefore,  or  creepers,  in 
truded  between  him  and  this  pleasant  "  prospect."  The 
doctor  was  an  utilitarian ;  he  could  see  "  no  use"  in  such 
things,  save  to  rot  timber  and  harbor  vermin.  So  a  won 
drous  glare  of  white  paint,  (carefully  renewed  every 
spring,)  blinded  the  traveler  whose  misfortune  it  was  to 


246  RUTH       HALL. 

pass  the  road  by  the  doctor's  house.  As  I  said,  it  was 
now  four  o'clock.  The  twelve  o'clock  dinner  was  long 
since  over.  The  Irish  girl  had  rinsed  out  her  dish-towels, 
hung  them  out  the  back  door  to  dry,'  and  gone  down  to 
the  village  store  to  buy  some  new  ribbons  advertised  as 
selling  at  an  "  immense  sacrifice"  by  the  disinterested 
village  shopkeeper. 

Let  us  peep  into  the  doctor's  sitting  room  ;  the  air  of 
this  room  is  close  and  stifled,  for  the  windows  must  be 
tightly  closed,  lest  some  audacious  fly  should  make  his 
mark  on  the  old  lady's  immaculate  walls.  A  centre 
table  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  with  a  copy  of 
"The  Religious  Pilot,"  last  year's  Almanac,  A  Di 
rectory,  and  "  The  remarkable  Escape  of  Eliza  Cook, 
who  was  partially  scalped  by  the  Indians."  On  one  side 
of  the  room  hangs  a  piece  of  framed  needle-work,  by  the 
virgin  fingers  of  the  old  lady,  representing  an  unhappy 
female,  weeping  over  a  very  high  and  very  perpendicular 
tombstone,  which  is  hieroglyphiced  over  with  untrans- 
lateable  characters  in  red  worsted,  while  a  few  herbs,  not 
mentioned  by  botanists,  are  struggling  for  existence  at 
its  base.  A  friendly  willow-tree,  of  a  most  extraordi 
nary  shade  of  blue  green,  droops  in  sympathy  over  the 
afflicted  female,  while  a  nondescript  looking  bird,  re 
sembling  a  dropsical  bull-frog,  suspends  his  song  and  one 
leg,  in  the  foreground.  It  was  principally  to  preserve 


RUTH       HALL.  247 

this  chef-d'oeuvre  of  art,  that  the  windows  were  hermeti 
cally  sealed  to  the  entrance  of  vagrant  flies. 

The  old  doctor,  with  his  spectacles  awry  and  his  hands 
drooping  listlessly  at  his  side,  snored  from  the  depths  of 
his  arm-chair,  while  opposite  him  the  old  lady,  peering 
out  from  behind  a  very  stifly-starched  cap  border,  was 
"  seaming,"  "  widening,"  and  "narrowing,"  with  a  precis 
ion  and  perseverance  most  painful  to  witness.  Outside, 
the  bee  hummed,  the  robin  twittered,  the  shining  leaves  of 
the  village  trees  danced  and  whispered  to  the  shifting 
clouds ;  the  free,  glad  breeze  swept  the  tall  meadow-grass, 
and  the  village  children,  as  free  and  fetterless,  danced  and 
shouted  at  their  sports  ;  but  there  sat  little  Katy,  with 
her  hands  crossed  in  her  lap,  as  she  had  sat  for  many  an 
hour,  listening  to  the  never-ceasing  click  of  her  grand 
mother's  needles,  and  the  sonorous  breathings  of  the 
doctor's  rubicund  nose.  Sometimes  she  moved  uneasily 
in  her  chair,  but  the  old  lady's  uplifted  finger  would  im 
mediately  remind  her  that  "  little  girls  must  be  seen  and 
not  heard."  It  was  a  great  thing  for  Katy  when  a  mouse- 
scratched  on  the  wainscot,  or  her  grandmother's  br. 
rolled  out  of  her  lap,  giving  her  a  chance  to  stretch  her 
little  cramped  limbs.  And  now  the  village  bell  began  to 
toll,  with  a  low,  booming,  funereal  sound,  sending  a  cold 
shudder  through  the  child's  nervous  and  excited  frame. 
What  if  her  mother  should  die  wey  off  in  the  city  ? 
What  if  she  should  always  live  in  this  terrible  way  at  her 


248  RUTH       HALL. 

grandmother's  ?  with  nobody  to  love  her,  or  kiss  hert  or 
pat  her  little  head  kindly,  and  say,  "  Katy,  dear ;"  and 
again  the  bell  boomed  out  its  mournful  sound,  and  little 
Katy,  unable  longer  to  bear  the  torturing  thoughts  it 
called  up,  sobbed  aloud. 

It  was  all  in  vain,  that  the  frowning  old  lady  held  up 
her  warning  finger ;  the  flood-gates  were  opened,  and  Katy 
could  not  have  stopped  her  tears  had  her  life  depended 
on  it. 

Hark !  a  knock  at  the  door !  a  strange  footstep  ! 

"Mother!"  shrieked  the  child  hysterically,  "mother!" 
and  flew  into  Ruth's  sheltering  arms. 

"  What  shall  we  do,  doctor  T  asked  the  old  lady,  the 
day  after  Ruth's  visit.  "  I  trusted  to  her  not  being  able 
to  get  the  money  to  come  out  here,  and  her  father,  I 
knew,  would  n't  give  it  to  her,  and  now  here  she  has 
walked  the  whole  distance,  with  Nettie  in  her  arms,  ex 
cept  a  lift  a  wagoner  or  two  gave  her  on  the  road ;  and  I 
verily  believe  she  would  have  done  it,  had  it  been  twice 
the  distance  it  is.  I  never  shall  be  able  to  bring  up  that 
child  according  to  my  notions,  while  she  is  round.  I  'd 
forbid  her  the  house,  (she  deserves  it,)  only  that  it  won't 
sound  well  if  she  tells  of  it.  And  to  think  of  that  un 
grateful  little  thing's  flying  into  her  mother's  arms  as  if 
she  was  in  the  last  extremity,  after  all  we  have  done  for 
her.  I  don't  suppose  Ruth  would  have  left  her  with  us,  as 


R  U  T  H       HALL.  249 

it  is,  if  she  had  the  bread  to  put  in  her  mouth.  She  might 
as  well  give  her  up,  though,  first  as  last,  for  she  never 
will  be  able  to  support  her." 

"  She  's  lit  for  nothing  but  a  parlor  ornament,"  said  the 
doctor,  t;  never  was.     No  more  business   talent  in  Ruth 
Eliot,  than  there  is  in  that  chany  image  of  yours  on  the 
mantle-tree,  Mis.  Hall.     That  tells  the  whole  story." 
11* 


CHAPTER   IXIV. 


"  T  HAVE  good  news  for  yon,"  said  Mr.  Lescom  to 

^-  Ruth,  at  her  next  weekly  visit ;  "  your  very  first  arti 
cles  are  copied,  I  see,  into  many  of  my  exchanges,  even 

into  the  ,  which  seldom  contains  anything  but 

politics.  A  good  sign  for  you  Mrs.  Hall ;  a  good  test  of 
your  popularity." 

Ruth's  eyes  sparkled,  and  her  whole  face  glowed. 

"  Ladies  like  to  be  praised,"  said  Mr.  Lescom,  good- 
humorcdly,  with  a  mischievous  smile. 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  that — not  that,  sir,"  said  Ruth,  with  a 
sudden  moistening  of  the  eye,  "  it  is  because  it  will  be 
bread  for  my  children." 

Mr.  Lescom  checked  his  mirthful  mood,  and  said, 
'  Well,  here  is  something  good  for  me,  too ;  a  letter  from 
Missouri,  in  which  the  writer  says,  that  if  "  Floy  "  (a 
pretty  nom-de-plume  that  of  yours,  Mrs.  Hall)  is  to  be  a 
contributor  for  the  coming  year,  I  may  put  him  down  as 


RUTH       HALL.  '251 

a  subscriber,  as  well  as  S.  Jones,  E.  May,  and  J.  Noyes, 
all  of  the  same  place.  That 's  good  news  for  me,  you 
see,"  said  Mr.  Lescom,  with  one  of  his  pleasant,  beaminp 
smiles. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ruth,  abstractedly.  She  was  wondering 
if  her  articles  were  to  be  the  means  of  swelling  Mr.  Les- 
com's  subscription  list,  whether  she  ought  not  to  profit  by 
it  as  well  as  himself,  and  whether  she  should  not  ask  him 
to  increase  her  pay.  She  pulled  her  gloves  off  and  on, 
and  finally  mustered  courage  to  clothe  her  thought  in  words. 

"  Now  that 's  just  like  a  woman,"  replied  Mr.  Lescom, 
turning  it  off  with  a  joke  ;  ''give  them  the  least  foot-hold, 
and  they  will  want  the  whole  territory.  Had  I  not 
shown  you  that  letter,  you  would  have  been  quite  con 
tented  with  your  present  pay.  Ah  !  I  see  it  won't  do  to 
talk  so  unprofessionally  to  you  ;  and  you  need  n't  expect," 
said  he,  smiling,  ':  that  I  shall  ever  speak  of  letters  con 
taining  new  subscribers  on  your  account.  I  could  easily 
get  you  the  offer  of  a  handsome  salary  by  publishing 
such  things.  No — no,  I  have  been  foolish  enough  to  lose 
two  or  three  valuable  contributors  in  that  way ;  I  have 
learned  better  than  that,  '  Floy' ;  "  and  taking  out  hh 
purse,  he  paid  Ruth  the  usual  sum  for  her  articles. 

Ruth  bowed  courteously,  and  put  the  money  in  he, 
purse ;  but  she  sighed  as  she  went  down  the  office 
stairs.  Mr.  Lescom's  view  of  the  case  was  a  business 
one,  undoubtedly ;  and  the  same  view  that  almost  any 


252  RUTH     HALL. 

other  business  man  would  have  taken,  viz.:  to  retain 
her  at  her  present  low  rate  of  compensation,  till  he  was 
necessitated  to  raise  it  by  a  higher  bid  from  a  rival 
quarter.  And  so  she  must  plod  wearily  on  till  that  time 
came,  and  poor  Katy  must  still  be  an  exile  ;  for  she  had 
not  enough  to  feed  her,  her  landlady  having  raised  the 
rent  of  her  room  two  shillings,  and  Ruth  being  unable  to 
find  cheaper  accommodations.  It  was  hard,  but  what 
could  be  done  7  Ruth  believed  she  had  exhausted  all  the 
offices  she  knew  of.  Oh  !  there  was  one,  "  The  Pilgrim ;" 
she  had  not  tried  there.  She  would  call  at  the  office  on 
her  way  home. 

The  editor  of  "The  Pilgrim"  talked  largely.  He 
had,  now,  plenty  of  contributors ;  he  did  n't  know  about 
employing  a  new  one.  Had  she  ever  written  7  and  what 
had  she  written  7  Ruth  showed  him  her  article  in  the 
last  number  of  "  The  Standard." 

"  Oh — hum — hum  !"  said  Mr.  Tibbetts,  changing  his 
tone ;  "  so  you  are  '  Floy,'  are  you  7"  (casting  his  eyes 
on  her.)  "  What  pay  do  they  give  you  over  there  7" 

Ruth  was  a  novice  in  business-matters,  but  she  had 
strong  common  sense,  and  that  common  sense  said,  he 
has  no  right  to  ask  you  that  question ;  don't  you  tell 
him  ;  so  she  replied  with  dignity,  "  My  bargain,  sir,  with 
Mr.  Lescom  was  a  private  one,  I  believe." 

"  Hum,"  said  the  foiled  Mr.  Tibbetts ;  adding  in  an 
under-tone  to  his  partner,  "  sharp  that !" 


RUTH       II  A  L 1  .  253 

"  Well,  if  I  conclude  to  engage  you,"  said  Mr.  Tib- 
betts,  "  I  should  prefer  you  would  write  for  me  over  a 
different  signature  than  the  one  by  which  your  pieces  are 
indicated  at  The  Standard  office,  or  you  can  write  exclu 
sively  for  my  paper."' 

"  With  regard  to  your  first  proposal,"  said  Ruth,  "  if 
I  have  gained  any  reputation  by  my  first  efforts,  it  ap 
pears  to  me  that  I  should  be  foolish  to  throw  it  away  by 
the  adoption  of  another  signature ;  and  with  regard  to 
the  last,  I  have  no  objection  to  writing  exclusively  for 
you,  if  you  will  make  it  worth  my  while." 

"  Sharp  again,"  whispered  Tibbctts  to  his  partner. 

The  two  editors  then  withdrawing  into  a  further  corner 
of  the  office,  a  whispered  consultation  followed,  during 
which  Ruth  heard  the  words,  ';  Can't  afford  it,  Tom ; 
hang  it !  we  are  head  over  ears  in  debt  now  to  that  paper 
man  ;  good  articles  though — deuced  good — must  have  her 
if  we  dispense  with  some  of  our  other  contributors. 
We  had  better  begin  low  though,  as  to  terms,  for  she  '11 
go  up  now  like  a  rocket,  and  when  she  finds  out  her 
value  we  shall  have  to  increase  her  pay,  you  know." 

(Thank  you,  gentlemen,  thought  Ruth,  when  the  cards 
change  hands,  I  '11  take  care  to  return  the  compliment.) 

In  pursuance  of  Mr.  Tibbetts'  shrewd  resolution,  he 
made  known  his  "  exclusive  "  terms  to  Ruth,  which  were 
no  advance  upon  her  present  rate  of  pay  at  The  Stand 
ard.  This  offer  being  declined,  they  made  her  another, 


254  RUTH      HALL. 

in  which,  since  she  would  not  consent  to  do  otherwise, 
they  agreed  she  should  write  over  her  old  signature, 
"  Floy,"  furnishing  them  with  two  articles  a  week. 

Ruth  accepted  the  terms,  poor  as  they  were,  because 
she  could  at  present  do  no  better,  and  because  every 
pebble  serves  to  swell  the  current. 

Months  passed,  away,  while  Ruth  hoped  and  toiled, 
"  Floy's  "  fame  as  a  writer  increasing  much  faster  than 
her  remuneration.  There  was  rent-room  to  pay,  little 
shoes  and  stockings  to  buy,  oil,  paper,  pens,  and  ink  to 
find ;  and  now  autumn  had  come,  she  could  not  write 
with  stiffened  fingers,  and  wood  and  coal  were  ruinously 
high,  so  that  even  with  this  new  addition  to  her  labor, 
Ruth  seemed  to  retrograde  pecuniarily,  instead  of 
advancing ;  and  Katy  still  away !  She  must  work 
harder — harder.  Good,  brave  little  Katy  ;  she,  too,  was 
bearing  and  hoping  on — mamma  had  promised,  if  she 
would  stay  there,  patiently,  she  would  certainly  take  her 
away  just  as  soon  as  she  had  earned  money  enough ;  and 
mamma  never  broke  her  promise — never ;  and  Katy 
prayed  to  God  every  night,  with  childish  trust,  to  help  her 
mother  to  earn  money,  that  she  might  soon  go  home  again. 

And  so,  while  Ruth  scribbled  away  in  her  garret,  the 
public  were  busying  themselves  in  conjecturing  who 
"  Floy "  might  be.  Letters  poured  in  upon  Mr.  Les- 
com,  with  their  inquiries,  even  bribing  him  with  the  offer 


RUTH       HALL.  255 

to  procure  a  certain  number  of  subscribers,  if  he  would 
divulge  her  real  name ;  to  all  of  which  the  old 
man,  true  to  his  promise  to  Ruth,  to  keep  her  secret  in 
violate,  turned  a  deaf  car.  All  sorts  of  rumors  became 
rife  about  '•  Floy,''  some  maintaining  her  to  be  a  man, 
because  she  had  the  courage  to  call  things  by  their  right 
names,  and  the  independence  to  express  herself  boldly 
on  subjects  which  to  the  timid  and  clique-serving,  were 
tabooed.  Some  said  she  was  a  disappointed  old  maid  ; 
some  said  she  was  a  designing  widow ;  some  said  she  was 
a  moon-struck  girl ;  and  all  said  she  was  a  nondescript. 
Some  tried  to  imitate  her,  and  failing  in  this,  abused 
and  maligned  her ;  the  outwardly  strait-laced  and  in 
wardly  corrupt,  puckered  up  their  mouths  and  "  blushed 
for  her ;"  the  hypocritical  denounced  the  sacrilegious  fin 
gers  which  had  dared  to  touch  the  Ark  ;  the  fashionist 
voted  her  a  vulgar,  plebeian  thing ;  and  the  earnest  and 
sorrowing,  to  whose  burdened  hearts  she  had  given  voice, 
cried  God  speed  her.  And  still  "  Floy"  scribbled  on, 
thinking  only  of  bread  for  'her  children,  laughing  and 
crying  behind  her  mask. — laughing  all  the  more  when 
her  heart  was  heaviest;  but  of  this  her  readers  knew 
little  and  would  have  cared  less.  Still  her  little  bark 
breasted  the  billows,  now  rising  high  on  the  topmost 
wave,  now  merged  in  the  shadows,  but  still  steering 
with  straining  sides,  and  a  heart  of  oak,  for  the  nearing 
port  of  Independence. 


256  RUTH      HALL. 

Euth's  brother,  Hyacinth,  saw  "  Floy's"  articles  floating 
through  his  exchanges  with  marked  dissatisfaction  and 
uneasiness.  That  she  should  have  succeeded  in  any  degree 
without  his  assistance,  was  a  puzzle,  and  the  premonitory 
symptoms  of  her  popularity,  which  his  weekly  exchanges 
furnished,  in  the  shape  of  commendatory  notices,  were 
gall  and  wormwood  to  him.  Something  must  be  done, 
and  that  immediately.  Seizing  his  pen,  he  despatched  a 
letter  to  Mrs.  Millet,  which  he  requested  her  to  read  to 
Euth,  alluding  very  contemptuously  to  Euth's  articles, 
and  begging  her  to  use  her  influence  with  Euth  to  desist 
from  scribbling,  and  seek  some  other  employment. 
What  employment,  he  did  not  condescend  to  state ;  in 
fact,  it  was  a  matter  of  entire  indifference  to  him,  pro 
vided  she  did  not  cross  his  track.  Euth  listened  to  the 
contents  of  the  letter,  with  the  old  bitter  smile,  and  went 
on  writing. 


CHAPTER    LXV. 

A  DULL,  drizzling  rain  spattered  perseveringly  against 
Ruth's  windows,  making  her  little  dark  room  ten 
fold  gloomier  and  darker  than  ever.  Little  Nettie  had 
exhausted  her  slender  stock  of  toys,  and  creeping  up  to 
her  mother's  side,  laid  her  head  wearily  in  her  lap. 

"  Wait  just  a  moment,  Nettie,  till  mamma  finishes  this 
page/'  said  Ruth,  dipping  her  pen  again  in  the  old  stone 
inkstand. 

The  child  crept  back  again  to  the  window,  and  watched 
the  little  pools  of  water  in  the  streets,  as  the  rain-drops 
dimpled  them,  and  saw,  for  the  hundredth  time,  the  gro 
cer's  boy  carrying  home  a  brown-paper  parcel  for  some 
customers,  and  eating  something  from  it  as  he  went  along  ; 
and  listened  to  the  milkman,  who  thumped  so  loudly 
on  the  back  gates,  and  seemed  always  in  such  a  tearing 
hurry  ;  and  saw  the  baker  open  the  lid  of  his  boxes,  and 
let  the  steam  escape  from  the  smoking  hot  cakes  and 


258  RUTH       HALL. 

pies.  Nettie  wished  she  could  have  some  of  them,  but 
she  had  long  since  learned  only  to  wish ;  and  then  she 
saw  the  two  little  sisters  who  went  by  to  school  every 
morning,  and  who  were  now  cuddling,  laughingly  togeth 
er,  under  a  great  big  umbrella,  which  the  naughty  wind 
was  trying  to  turn  inside  out,  and  to  get  away  from  them  ; 
and  then  Nettie  thought  of  Katy,  and  wished  she  had 
Katy  to  play  with  her,  when  mamma  wrote  such  a  long, 
long  time  ;  and  then  little  Nettie  drew  such  a  heavy  sigh, 
that  Ruth  dashed  down  her  pen,  and  taking  her  in  her 
arms  and  kissing  her,  told  her  about, 

"  Mistress  McShuttle, 
"Who  lived  in  a  coal-scuttle, 

Along  with  her  dog  and  her  cat, 
What  she  did  there,  I  can't  tell, 
But  I  know  very  well, 

That  none  of  the  party  were  fat." 

And  then  she  narrated  the  exciting  adventures  of  "  The 
Wise  Men  of  Gotham,"  who  went  to  sea  in  that  rudder 
less  bowl,  and  suffered  shipwreck  and  "  total  lass  of  life," 
as  the  newsboys  (God  bless  their  rough-and-ready  faces) 
call  it ;  and  then  little  Nettie's  snowy  lids  drooped  over 
her  violet  eyes,  and  she  was  far  away  in  the  land  of 
dreams,  where  there  are  no  little  hungry  girls,  or  tired, 
scribbling  mammas. 

Ruth  laid  the  child  gently  on  her  little  bed,  and  re 
sumed  her  pen ;  but  the  spell  was  broken,  and  "  careful 


RUTH       HALL.  259 

and  troubled  about  many  things"  she  laid  it  down  again, 
and  her  thoughts  ran  riot. 

Pushing  aside  her  papers,  she  discovered  two  unopened 
letters  which  Mr.  Lescoin  had  handed  her.  and  which  she 
had  in  the  hurry  of  finishing  her  next  article,  quite  for 
gotten.  Breaking  the  seal  of  the  first,  she  read  as  follows : 

"  To  '  FLOV.' 

"  I  am  a  rough  old  man,  Miss,  and  not  used  to  writ 
ing  or  talking  to  ladies.  I  don't  know  who  you  are.  and 
I  don't  ask  ;  but  I  take  '  The  Standard,'  and  I  like  your 
pieces.  I  have  a  family  of  bouncing  girls  and  boys  ;  and 
when  we  'vc  all  done  work,  we  get  round  the  fire  of  an 
evening,  while  one  of  us  reads  your  pieces  aloud.  It 
may  not  make  much  difference  to  you  what  an  old  man 
thinks,  hut  I  tell  you  those  pieces  have  got  the  real  stuff 
in  'cm,  and  so  I  told  my  son  John  the  other  night ;  and  he 
says,  and  /  say,  and  neighbor  Smith,  who  comes  in  to 
hear  'em,  says,  that  you  ought  to  make  a  book  of  them, 
so  that  your  readers  may  keep  them.  You  can  put  me 
down  for  three  copies,  to  begin  with ;  and  if  every  sub 
scriber  to  '  The  Standard  '  feels  as  I  do,  you  might  make  a 
plum  by  the  operation.  Suppose,  now,  you  think  of  it  ? 

'•  X.  B. — John  says,  maybe  you  '11  be  offended  at  my 
writing  to  you,  but  I  say  you  Ve  got  too  much  common 
sense.  Yours  to  command, 

"  JOHN  STOKES." 


260  RUTH       HALL. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Kuth,  laughing,  "  that 's  a  thought 
that  never  entered  this  busy  head  of  mine,  John  Stokes. 
/  publish  a  book  ?  Why,  John,  are  you  aware  that  those 
articles  were  written  for  bread  and  butter,  not  fame ;  and 
tossed  to  the  printer  before  the  ink  was  dry,  or  I  had  time 
for  a  second  reading  1  And  yet,  perhaps,  there  is  more 
freshness  about  them  than  there  would  have  been,  had  I 
leisure  to  have  pruned  and  polished  them — who  knows  ? 
I'll  put  your  suggestion  on  file,  friend  Stokes,  to  be 
turned  over  at  my  leisure.  It  strikes  me,  though,  that  it 
will  keep  awhile.  Thank  you,  honest  John.  It  is  just 
such  readers  as  you  whom  I  like  to  secure.  Well,  what 
have  we  here  ?"  and  Ruth  broke  the  seal  of  the  second 
letter.  It  was  in  a  delicate,  beautiful,  female  hand  ;  just 
such  an  one  as  you,  dear  Reader,  might  trace,  whose 
sweet,  soft  eyes,  and  long,  drooping  tresses,  are  now 
bending  over  this  page.  It  said  : 

"DEAR' FLOY': 

"  For  you  arc  '  dear '  to  me,  dear  as  a  sister  on 
whose  loving  breast  I  have  leaned,  though  I  never  saw 
your  face.  I  know  not  whether  you  are  young  and  fair, 
or  old  and  wrinkled,  but  I  know  that  your  heart  is  fresh, 
and  guileless,  and  warm  as  childhood's ;  and  that  every 
week  your  printed  words  come  to  me,  in  my  sick  cham 
ber,  like  the  ministrations  of  some  gentle  friend,  some 
times  stirring  to  its  very  depths  the  fountain  of  tears,  some- 


RUTH       HALL.  261 

times,  by  odd  and  quaint  conceits,  provoking  the  mirth 
ful  smile.  But  '  Floy,'  I  love  you  best  in  your  serious 
moods  ;  for  as  earth  recedes,  and  eternity  draws  near,  it 
is  the  real  and  tangible,  my  soul  yearns  after.  And  sure 
I  am,  '  Floy,'  that  I  am  not  mistaken  in  thinking  that  we 
both  lean  on  the  same  Rock  of  Ages;  both  discern, 
through  the  mists  and  clouds  of  time,  the  Sun  of  Right 
eousness.  I  shall  never  sec  you,  '  Floy,'  on  earth  ;  —  mys 
terious  voices,  audible  only  to  the  dying  ear,  are  calling 
me  away  ;  and  yet,  before  I  go,  I  would  send  you  this 
token  of  my  love,  for  all  the  sweet  and  soul-strengthening 
words  you  have  unconsciously  sent  to  my  sick  chamber, 
to  wing  the  weary,  waiting  hours.  We  shall  meet,  '  Floy'  ; 
but  it  will  be  where  '  tears  are  wiped  away,' 
"  God  bless  you,  my  unknown  sister. 


Ruth's  head  bowed  low  upon  the  table,  and  her  lips 
moved  ;  but  He  to  whom  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are 
known,  alone  heard  that  grateful  prayer. 


CHAPTER    LXVI. 

rPHAT  first  miserable  day  at  school !  Who  that  has 
known  it — even  with  a  mother's  kiss  burning  on  the 
cheek,  a  big  orange  bumping  in  the  new  satchel,  and  a 
promise  of  apple-dumplings  for  dinner,  can  review  it  with 
out  a  shudder?  Torturing — even  when  you  can  run 
home  and  "  tell  mother "  all  your  little  griefs ;  when 
every  member  of  the  home  circle  votes  it  "  a  shame  "  that 
Johnny  Oakes  laughed  because  you  did  not  take  your 
alphabet  the  natural  way,  instead  of  receiving  it  by  in 
oculation,  (just  as  he  forgets  that  he  did;)  torturing — 
when  Bill  Smith,  and  Tom  Simms,  with  whom  you  have 
"  swapped  alleys,"  arid  played  "  hockey,"  are  there  with 
their  familiar  faces,  to  take  off  the  chill  of  the  new  school 
room  ;  torturing — to  the  sensitive  child,  even  when  the 
teachei  is  a  sunny-faced  young  girl,  instead  of  a  prim  old 
ogre.  Poor  little  Katy  !  her  book  was  before  her ;  but 
the  lines  blurred  into  one  indistinct  haze,  and  her  throat 


RUTH       HALL.  263 

seemed  filling  to  suffocation  with  long-suppressed  sobs. 
The  teacher,  if  he  thought  anything  about  it,  thought  she 
had  the  tooth-ache,  or  ear-ache,  or  head-ache ;  and  Katy 
kept  her  own  secret,  for  she  had  read  his  face  correctly, 
and  with  a  child's  quick  instinct,  stifled  down  her  throb 
bing  little  heart. 

To  the  doctor,  and  "  Mis.  Hall,"  with  their  anti-pro 
gressive  notions,  a  school  was  a  school.  The  committee 
had  passed  judgment  on  it,  and  I  would  like  to  know  who 
would  be  insane  enough  to  question  the  decision  of  a 
School  Committee  ?  What  did  the  committee  care,  that 
the  consumptive  teacher,  for  his  own  personal  conven 
ience,  madly  excluded  all  ventilation,  and  heated  the  little 
sheet-iron  stove  hotter  than  Shadrack's  furnace,  till  little 
heads  snapped,  and  cheeks  crimsoned,  and  croup  stood 
ready  at  the  threshold  to  seize  the  first  little  bare  throat 
that  presented  its  perspiring  surface  to  the  keen  frosty 
air?  What  did  they  care  that  the  desks  were  so  con 
structed,  as  to  crook  spines,  and  turn  in  toes,  and  round 
shoulders  ?  What  did  they  care  that  the  funnel  smoked 
week  after  week,  till  the  curse  of  ;;  weak  eyes  "  was  en 
tailed  on  their  victims  for  a  lifetime  ?  They  had  other 
irons  in  the  fire,  to  which  this  was  a  cipher.  For  instance : 
the  village  pump  was  out  of  repair,  and  town-meeting 
after  town-meeting  had  been  called,  to  see  who  should  ii't 
make  its  handle  fly.  North  Gotham  said  it  was  the  busi 
ness  of  East  Gotham;  East  Gotham  said  the  pump  might 


264  RUTH      HALL. 

rot  before  they  'd  bear  the  expense  ;  not  that  the  East 
Gothamites  cared  for  expense — no ;  they  scorned  the  in 
sinuation,  but  they  'd  have  North  Gotham  to  know  that 
East  Gotham  was  n't  to  be  put  upon.  Jeremiah  Stubbs, 
a  staunch  North  Gothamite,  stopped  buying  molasses  and 
calico  at  "  Ezekial  Tibbs'  East  Gotham  Finding  Store ;" 
and  Ezekial  Tibbs  forbade,  under  penalty  of  losing  his 
custom,  the  carpenter  who  was  repairing  his  pig-sty, 
from  buying  nails  any  more  of  Jeremiah  Stubbs,  of 
North  Gotham ;  matches  were  broken  up ;  "own  cousins  " 
ceased  to  know  one  another,  and  the  old  women  had  a 
millenial  time  of  it  over  their  bohea,  discussing  and  set 
tling  matters ;  no  marvel  that  such  a  trifle  as  a  child's 
school  should  be  overlooked.  Meantime  there  stood 
the  pump,  with  its  impotent  handle,  high  and  dry ;  "  a 
gone  sucker,"  as  Mr.  Tibbs  facetiously  expressed  it. 

"  You  can't  go  to  school  to-day,  Katy,  it  is  washing- 
day,"  said  old  Mrs.  Hall;  "go  get  that  stool,  now  sit 
down  on  it,  at  my  feet,  and  let  me  cut  off  those  foolish 
dangling  curls." 

"  Mamma  likes  them,"  said  the  child. 

"I  know  it,"  replied  the  old  lady,  with  a  malicious 
smile,  as  she  gathered  a  cluster  of  them  in  one  hand  and 
seized  the  scissors  with  the  other. 

"  Papa  liked  them,"  said  Katy,  shrinking  back. 

"  No,  he  did  n't,"  replied  the  old  lady  ;  "  or,  if  he  did, 
'twas  only  to  please  your  foolish  mother ;  any  way  they 


RUTH       HALL.  337 

«  No — "by  Jove,"  replied  Lewis,  sarcastically ;  "  I  can't 
make  anything  out.  I  never  was  so  be-fogged  in  my  life  ;" 
and  he  bent  a  penetrating  glance  on  the  masked  face  be 
fore  him.  "It  is  past  my  finding  out,  at  least  just  now  ; 
but  I  Ve  a  Yankee  tongue  in  my  head,  so  I  don't  despair, 
with  time  and  perseverance ;"  and  Lewis  followed  Hya 
cinth  into  the  house. 

';  Confounded  disagreeable  fellow,"  soliloquized  Hya 
cinth,  as  he  handed  him  over  to  a  knot  of  ladies  in  the 
drawing-room  ;  i;  very  awkward  that  paragraph  ;  I  wish  I 
had  the  fellow  who  wrote  it,  at  pistol-shot  distance  just 
now  ;  well,  if  I  am  badgered  on  the  subject  of  '  Floy's  ' 
poverty,  I  shall  start  a  paragraph  saying,  that  the  story  is 
only  a  publisher's  trick  to  make  her  book  sell ;  by  Jove, 
they  don't  corner  me ;  I  have  got  out  of  worse  scrapes 
than  that  before  now,  by  the  help  of  my  wits  and  the 
lawyers,  but  I  don't  think  a  paper  of  any  influence  would 
attack  me  on  that  point ;  I  have  taken  care  to  secure  all 
the  more  prominent  ones,  long  ago,  by  judicious  puffs  of 
their  editors  in  the  Irving  Magazine.  The  only  one  I 

fear  is  the  ,  and  I  will  lay  an  anchor  to  windward 

there  this  very  week,  by  praising  the  editor's  last  stupid 

editorial.     What  an  unmitigated  donkey  that  fellow  is." 

15 


CHAPTER  IXXIX. 


are  you,  Walter,"  said  Mr.  Lewis,  extending 
his  hand;  "fine  day;  how  goes  the  world  with 
you  ?  They  say  you  are  a  man  who  dares  to  '  hew  to 
the  line,  let  the  chips  fly  in  whose  face  they  will.'.  Now, 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  if  '  Floy  '  is  really  a  sister  of  Hya 
cinth  Ellet,  the  editor  of  '  The  Irving  Magazine.'  I  can 
not  believe  it,  though  he  boasted  of  it  to  me  the  other 
day,  I  hear  such  accounts  of  her  struggles  and  her 
poverty.  I  cannot  see  into  it." 

"  It  is  very  easily  understood,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  with 
a  dark  frown  on  his  face;  "Mr.  Hyacinth  Ellet  has 
always  had  one  hobby,  namely  —  social  position.  For 
that  he  would  sacrifice  the  dearest  friend  or  nearest  rela 
tive  he  had  on  earth.  His  sister  was  once  in  affluent  cir 
cumstances,  beloved  and  admired  by  all  who  knew  her. 
Hyacinth,  at  that  time,  was  very  friendly,  of  course  ;  her 
husband's  wine  and  horses,  and  his  name  on  change,  were 


II  ALL.  339 

things  which  the  extravagant  Hyacinth  knew  how  to  ap 
preciate. 

"  Hall  (;  Floy's'  husband)  was  a  generous-hearted,  impul 
sive  fellow,  too  noble  himself  to  see  through  the  specious, 
flimsy  veil  which  covered  so  corrupt  a  heart  as  Hy 
acinth's.  Had  he  been  less  trusting,  less  generous  to 
him,  'Floy'  might  not  have  been  left  so  destitute  at  his 
death.  When  that  event  occurred,  Hyacinth's  regard  for 
his  sister  evaporated  in  a  lachrymose  obituary  notice  of 
Hall  in  the  Irving  Magazine.  The  very  day  after  his 
death,  Hyacinth  married  Julia  Grey,  or  rather  married 
her  fortune.  His  sister,  after  seeking  in  vain  to  get  em 
ployment,  driven  to  despair,  at  last  resorted  to  her  pen, 
and  applied  to  Hyacinth,  then  the  prosperous  editor  of 
the  Irving  Magazine,  either  to  give  her  employment  as  a 
writer,  or  show  her  some  way  to  obtain  it.  At  that  time 
Hyacinth  was  constantly  boasting  of  the  helping  hand 
he  had  extended  to  young  writers  in  their  extremity, 
(whom,  by  the  way,  he  paid  in  compliments  after  secur 
ing  their  articles,)  and  whom,  he  was  constantly  asserting, 
had  been  raised  by  him  from  obscurity  to  fame." 

"  Well,"  said  Lewis,  bending  eagerly  forward  ;  "  well, 
he  helped  his  sister,  of  course  V 

"  He  did  no  such  thing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  bringing 
his  hand  down  on  the  table  ;  "  he  did  no  such  thing,  sir  ; 
but  he  wrote  her  a  cool,  contemptuous,  insulting  letter, 
denying  her  all  claim  to  talent,  (she  had  sent  him  some 


340  RUTH     HALL. 

specimen  articles,)  and  advising  her  to  seek  some  unob 
trusive  employment,  (what  employment  he  did  not 
trouble  himself  to  name,)  and  then  ignored  her  existence ; 
and  this,  too,  when  he  was  squandering  money  on  '  dis 
tressed'  actresses,  etc." 

"  Well  1"  said  Mr.  Lewis,  inquiringly. 

"  Well,  sir,  she  struggled  on  bravely  and  single-handed, 
with  the  skeleton  Starvation  standing  by  her  hearth-stone 
— she  who  had  never  known  a  wish  ungratified  during 
her  married  life,  whose  husband's  pride  in  her  was  only 
equalled  by  his  love.  She  has  sunk  fainting  to  the  floor 
with  hunger,  that  her  children  might  not  go  supperless 
to  bed.  And  now,  when  the  battle  is  fought  and  the  vic 
tory  won,  he  comes  in  for  a  share  of  the  spoils.  It  is 
'  my  sister  "  Floy,"  '  and  'tis  his  *  literary  reputation  which 
was  the  stepping-stone  to  her  celebrity  as  a  writer.' 

"  To  show  you  how  much  '  his  reputation  has  helped 
her,'  I  will  just  state  that,  not  long  since,  I  was  dining  at 
a  restaurant  near  two  young  men,  who  were  discussing 
'  Floy.'  One  says,  '  Have  you  read  her  book  V  *  No,' 
said  the  other,  with  a  sneer,  *  nor  do  I  want  to ;  it  is 
enough  for  me  that  Hyacinth  Ellet  claims  her  as  a  sis 
ter  ;  that  is  enough  to  damn  any  woman.'  Then,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Walter,  "  there  was  an  English  paper,  the  edi 
tor  of  which,  disgusted  with  Hyacinth's  toadyisms,  fop 
peries,  and  impudence  while  abroad,  took  occasion  to  cut 
up  her  book  (as  he  acknowledged)  because  the  writer  was 


RUTH       HALL.  341 

said  to  be  Ellet's  sister.  That  is  the  way  his  reputation 
has  helped  her." 

<;  No  wonder  she  is  at  sword's-point  with  him,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Lewis. 

"  She  is  not  at  sword's-point  with  him,"  replied  Mr. 
Walter.  ';  She  simply  chooses  to  retain  the  position  her 
family  assigned  her  when  she  was  poor  and  obscure. 
They  would  not  notiec  her  then  ;  she  will  not  accept 
their  notice  now.'1 

"  Where  was  the  old  man,  her  father,  all  this  time  ?" 
said  Mr.  Lewis,  "  was  he  alive  and  in  good  circum 
stances  T' 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Walter ;  "  and  once  in  awhile 
lie  threw  her  a  dollar,  just  as  one  would  throw  a  bone  to 
a  hungry  dog,  with  a  '  begone  !'  " 

"  By  Jove  !:'  exclaimed  Mr.  Lewis,  as  he  passed  out, 
"  what  a  heartless  set." 


CHAPTER  IXXX. 


T)  UTH  returned  from  her  daily  walk  to  the  Post  Office, 
-*  ^  one  morning,  with  a  bundle  of  letters,  among  which 
was  one  from  Mr.  "Walter.  Its  contents  were  as  fol 
lows  : 

"  DEAR  SISTER  RUTH  : 

"  I  wonder  if  you  are  enjoying  your  triumph  half  as 
much  as  I  ?  But  how  should  you,  since  you  do  not  know 
of  it  1  Your  publishers  inform  me  that  orders  are  pour 
ing  in  for  your  book  faster  than  they  can  supply  them. 
What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  '  Floy,'  you  have  made  a 
decided  hit ;  how  lucky  that  you  had  the  foresight  to  hold 
on  to  your  copyright.  $800  will  not  be  a  circumstance  to 
the  little  fortune  you  are  going  to  make.  Your  success 
is  glorious  ;  'but  I  don't  believe  you  are  half  as  proud  of 
it  as  I  am. 

"  And  now,  I  know  of  what  you  are  thinking  as  well 


RUTH       HALL.  343 

as  if  I  were  by  your  side.  Tis  of  the  little  exile,  'tis  of 
Katy.  You  would  fly  directly  to  bring  her  home.  Can 
I  be  of  any  service  to  you  in  doing  this  ?  Business  takes 
me  your  way  day  after  to-morrow.  Can  you  curb  your 
impatience  to  see  her  till  then  ?  If  so,  I  will  accompany 
you.  Please  write  me  immediately. 

"  Yours  truly,  JOHN  WALTER." 

«  p.  S. — I  send  you  a  batch  of  letters,  which  came  by 
this  morning's  mail,  directed  to  '  Floy,'  office  of  the 
Household  Messenger." 

Ruth  tossed  the  "  batch  of  letters"  down  unopened, 
and  sprang  to  her  feet ;  she  tossed  up  Nettie  ;  she  kissed 
the  astonished  child  till  she  was  half  strangled  ;  she 
laughed,  she  cried,  and  then  she  sat  down  with  her  fore 
head  in  both  her  hands,  for  a  prolonged  reverie. 

What  good  news  about  the  book  !  How  could  she 
wait  two  days  before  she  brought  back  Katy  !  And  yet 
it  would  be  a  happy  thing,  that  Mr.  Walter,  whose  name 
was  synonymous  with  good  tidings,  should  be  associated 
with  her  in  the  return  of  the  child.  Yes,  she  would  wait. 
xVnd  when  Katy  was  secured,  what  then  ?  Why,  she 
would  leave  forever  a  city  fraught  with  such  painful  as 
sociations  ;  she  would  make  her  a  new  home.  Home  ? 
Her  heart  leaped ! — comforts  for  Nettie  and  Katy, — clothes 
— food, — earned  by  her  own  hands  !  —  Tears  trickled 


344  RUTH       HALL. 

through  Ruth's  fingers,  and  her  heart  went  out  in  a  mur 
mured  prayer  to  the  "  God  of  the  widow  and  fatherless." 

"  May  I  play  house  with  these  ?"  said  Nettie,  touching 
Ruth's  elbow,  and  pointing  to  the  unopened  letters. 

"  No,  little  puss,"  said  Ruth,  "  not  yet.  Wait  a  bit  till 
I  have  glanced  at  them  ;"  and  she  broke  the  seal  of  one. 

It  was  an  offer  of  marriage  from  a  widower.  He  had 
read  an  article  of  hers  on  "  Step-Mothers,"  and  was  "  very 
sure  that  a  woman  with  such  views  could  not  fail  to 
make  a  good  mother  for  his  children."  He  was  thirty- 
five — good-looking,  (every  man  who  had  written  her  a 
love-letter  was  /)  good  disposition — warm-hearted — would 
love  her  just  as  well  as  if  he  had  never  bent  an  adoring 
knee  to  Mrs.  Dorrance  No.  1 — was  not  at  all  set  in  his 
ways — in  fact  preferred  she  should,  in  everything,  save 
him  the  trouble  of  choice  ;  would  live  in  any  part  of  the 
Union  she  desired,  provided  she  would  only  consent  to 
the  union.  These  last  two  words  Mr.  Dorrance  had  itali 
cised,  as  indicating,  probably,  that  he  considered  it  a  pun 
fit  even  for  the  critical  eye  of  an  authoress. 

"  Oh,  pshaw  !"  said  Ruth,  throwing  the  letter  to  Nettie, 
"  make  anything  you  like  of  it,  pussy  ;  it  is  of  no  value  to 


"MADAM: 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be  guardian  to  a  young  Southern 
lady  (an  orphan)  of  large  fortune,  who  has  just  completed 


Tl  U  T  II       HALL.  345 

her  education.  She  has  taken  a  suite  of  apartments,  and 
given  me  orders  to  furnish  them  without  regard  to  ex 
pense,  according  to  her  fancy.  I  have  directions  to  pro 
cure  busts  of  Mrs.  Ilemans,  Miss  London,  and  several 
other  distinguished  female  writers,  among  whom  Miss  Le 
Roy  includes  '  Floy,'  (I  have  not  the  pleasure,  madam,  of 
knowing  your  true  name.)  with  whose  writings  she  has  be 
come  familiar,  and  who  is  as  great  a  favorite  with  her  as  she 
is  with  the  multitude  who  have  paid  tribute  to  her  genius. 
"Please  send  me  a  line,  (my  address  as  below,)  allow 
ing  me  to  inform  my  ward  how  her  favorite  wish  can  be 
best  carried  out. 

"Yours  truly,  THOMAS  PEARCE. 

Ruth  glanced  around  her  little  dark  room  and  smiled. 
"  I  would  rather,  instead,  that  an  artist  would  take  a  sketch 
of  my  room,  now,"  said  she ;  "  that  little  black  stove,  where 
I  have  so  often  tried  in  vain  to  thaw  my  frozen  fingers — 
that  rickety  old  bed — the  old  deal  table,  with  its  yellow 
bowl  of  milk — that  home-made  carpet — those  time-worn 
chairs — and  then  you,  my  little  bright  fairy,  in  the  fore 
ground  ;"  and  she  pushed  back  the  soft,  glossy  curls 
from  Nettie's  fair  brow. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Ruth,  "  better  reserve  the  niche  destined 
for  '  Floy  '  for  some  writer  to  whom  ambition  is  not  the 
hollow  tiling  it  is  to  me. 

15* 


346  RUTH       HALL. 

"  Well,  what  have  we  here  ?  Another  letter  ?"  Euth 
broke  the  seal  of  letter  No.  3,  and  read  : 

"  DEAR  MADAM  : 

"  I  am  a  poor  devil,  and  worse  editor  ;  nevertheless,  I 
have  started  a  paper.  If  you  will  but  allow  me  to  put 
your  name  on  it  as  Assistant  Editress,  I  am  sure  it  will 
go  like  a  locomotive.  If,  in  addition  to  this  little  favor, 
you  could  also  advance  me  the  sum  of  one  hundred  dol 
lars,  it  would  be  an  immense  relief  to  your  admirer, 

"  JOHN  K.  STAPLES. 

"  P.  S. — Be  sure  you  direct  to  John  K.  Staples,  as 
there  is  another  John  Staples  in  this  place,  who  is  a  great 
rascal.  J.  K.  S." 

"  Well !"  exclaimed  Euth,  "  I  did  not  believe  I  should 
ever  be  astonished  again,  but  then — I  had  not  heard  from 
Mr.  Staples.  But  here  is  another  letter.  Let  us  see 
what  the  contents  of  No.  4  are." 

Letter  No.  4  ran  as  follows : 

"  DEAR  '  FLOY'  : 

"  I  am  a  better  son,  a  better  brother,  a  better  husband, 
and  a  better  father,  than  I  was  before  I  commenced  read 
ing  your  articles.  May  God  bless  you  for  the  words  you 
have  spoken  (though  unintentionally)  so  directly  to  me. 


RUTH       HALL.  347 

May  you  be  rewarded  by  Him  to  whom  the  secrets  of 
all  hearts  are  known. 

"  Your  grateful  friend,  M.  J.  D." 

"  This  will  repay  many  a  weary  hour,"  said  Ruth,  as 
her  tears  fell  upon  the  page. 


CHAPTER  LXXXI. 


rain  had  poured  down  without  mitigation  for 
seven  consecutive  days ;  the  roads  were  in  a  very 
plaster-y  state  ;  dissevered  branches  of  trees  lay  scattered 
upon  the  ground ;  tubs  and  hogsheads,  which  careful 
housewives  had  placed  under  dripping  spouts,  were  full 
to  overflowing ;  the  soaked  hides  of  the  cattle  looked 
sleek  as  their  owners'  pomatum'd  heads  of  a  Sunday ; 
the  old  hen  stood  poised  on  one  leg  at  the  barn-door,  till 
even  her  patience  had  given  out ;  the  farmers  had  mended 
all  the  old  hoe  and  rake  handles,  read  the  Almanac 
through  and  through,  and  worn  all  the  newspapers  and 
village  topics  threadbare,  when  the  welcome  sun  at  last 
broke  through  the  clouds,  and  every  little  and  big  puddle 
in  the  road  hastened  joyfully  to  reflect  his  beams. 

Old  Doctor  Hall  started  down  cellar  for  his  "  eleven 
o'clock  mug  of  cider  ;"  to  his  dismay  he  found  his  slip 
pered  pedestals  immersed  in  water,  which  had  risen 
above  the  last  step  of  the  cellar-stairs. 


RUTH       HALL. 


349 


"  A  pretty  piece  of  work  this  rain  has  made,  Mis. 
Hall,"  said  the  doctor,  stamping  his  wet  feet  and  blowing 
his  nose,  as  he  returned  from  his  visit  to  the  lower  re 
gions  ;  "  the  \vater  has  overflowed  the  cellar,  and  got 
most  up  to  those  hams  that  you  set  such  store  by.  You  'd 
better  tell  Bridget  to  climb  over  the  heads  of  those  bar 
rels,  and  get  the  hams  out  before  they  are  clean  sp'iled." 

Before  the  last  words  had  fairly  left  the  doctor's  mouth 
the  old  lady's  cap-strings  were  seen  flying  towards  the 
kitchen. 

"  I  shan't  do  it,  for  anybody,"  exclaimed  the  new  help, 
as  she  placed  her  red  arms  a-kimbo.  "  I  'm  not  going  to 
risk  my  neck  going  over  those  tittlish  barrels  in  that 
dark  cellar,  for  all  the  hams  that  was  ever  cured." 

"  You  can  carry  a  lamp  with  you,"  suggested  the  old 
lady. 

"  I  shan't  do  it,  I  tell  you,"  said  the  vixen  ;  "  help  is 
skerse  out  here  in  the  country,  and  I  can  get  a  new  place 
before  sundown,  if  I  like." 

"  Katy  !"  screamed  the  old  lady,  with  a  shrill  voice, 
«  Katy  !" 

Katy  started  from  her  corner  and  came  out  into  the 
entry,  in  obedience  to  the  summons. 

';  Come  here,  Katy ;  Bridget  is  as  contrary  as  a  mule, 
and  won't  go  into  the  cellar  to  get  those  hams.  I  cannot 
go  in  after  'em,  nor  the  doctor  either,  so  you  must  go  in 
and  bring  them  out  yourself.  Climb  up  on  those  barrel 


350  RUTH       HALL. 

heads,  and  then  feel  your  way  along  to  the  further  cor 
ner  ;  go  right  down  the  cellar-stairs  now,  quick." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot !  I  dare  not !"  said  Katy,  trembling  and 
shrinking  back,  as  the  old  lady  pushed  her  along  toward 
the  cellar-door. 

"  I'm  so  afraid,"  said  the  child,  peeping  down  the  cel 
lar-stairs,  with  distended  eyes,  "  oh,  don't  make  me  go 
down  in  that  dark  place,  grandma." 

"Dark,  pooh!"  said  the  old  lady;  "what  are  you 
afraid  of?  rats  ?  There  are  not  more  than  half-a-dozen 
in  the  whole  cellar." 

"  Can't  Bridget  go  V  asked  Katy  ;  "  oh,  I  'm  so 
afraid," 

"  Bridget  won't,  so  there 's  an  end  of  that,  and  I  'm  not 
going  to  lose  a  new  girl  I  Ve  just  got,  for  your  obsti 
nacy  ;  so  go  right  down  this  minute,  rats  or  no  rats." 

"  Oh,  I  can't !  if  you  kill  me  I  can't,"  said  Katy,  with 
white  lips,  and  clinging  to  the  side  of  the  cellar  door. 

"  But  I  say  you  shall,"  said  the  old  lady,  unclinching 
Katy's  hands;  "don't  you  belong  to  me,  I 'd  like  to 
know  7  and  can't  I  do  with  you  as  I  like  f 

"  No !"  said  Ruth,  receiving  the  fainting  form  of  her 
frightened  child  ;  "  no !" 

"  Doctor  !  doctor  !"  said  the  old  lady,  trembling  with 
rage  ;  "  are  you  master  in  this  house  or  not  ?" 

«  Yes — when  you  are  out  of  it,"  growled  the  doctor  ; 
"  what 's  to  pay  now  ?" 


RUTH       HALL.  351 

'•  Why,  matter  enough.  Here  's  Ruth,"  said  the  old 
lady,  not  noticing  the  doctor's  taunt ;  "  Ruth  interfering 
between  me  and  Katy.  If  you  will  order  her  out  of  the 
house,  I  will  be  obliged  to  you.  I  Ve  put  up  with 
enough  of  this  meddling,  and  it  is  the  last  time  she  shall 
cross  this  threshold." 

"  You  never  spoke  a  truer  word,"  said  Ruth,  "  and 
my  child  shall  cross  it  for  the  last  time  with  me." 

"  Humph  !"  said  the  doctor,  "and  you  no  better  than 
a  beggar  !  The  law  says  if  the  mother  can't  support  her 
children,  the  grand-parents  shall  do  it." 

"  The  mother  can — the  mother  will"  said  Ruth.  "  I 
have  already  earned  enough  for  their  support." 

"  Well,  if  you  have,  which  I  doubt,  I  hope  you  earned 
it  honestly,''  said  the  old  lady. 

Ruth's  heightened  color  was  the  only  reply  to  this 
taunt.  Tying  her  handkerchief  over  Katy's  bare  head, 
and  wrapping  the  trembling  child  in  a  shawl  she  had  pro 
vided,  she  bore  her  to  a  carriage,  where  Mr.  Walter  and 
his  brother-in-law,  (Mr.  Grey,)  with  little  Nettie,  awaited 
them ;  the  door  was  quickly  closed,  and  the  carriage 
whirled  off.  The  two  gentlemen  alternately  wiped  their 
eyes,  and  looked  out  the  window  as  Katy,  trembling,  cry 
ing,  and  laughing,  clung  first  to  her  mother,  and  then  to 
little  Nettie,  casting  anxious,  frightened  glances  toward 
the  prison  she  had  left,  as  the  carriage  receded. 

Weeping  seemed  to  be  infectious.      Ruth  cried  and 


352  RUTH       HALL. 

laughed,  and  Mr.  Grey  and  Mr.  Walter  seemed  both  to 
have  lost  the  power  of  speech.  Little  Nettie  was  the 
first  to  break  the  spell  by  offering  to  lend  Katy  her 
bonnet. 

"We  will  do  better  than  that,"  said  Ruth,  smiling 
through  her  tears  ;  "  we  will  get  one  for  Katy  when  we 
stop.  See  here,  Katy ;"  and  Ruth  tossed  a  purse  full 
of  money  into  Katy's  lap.  "  You  know,  mother  said  she 
would  come  for  you  as  soon  as  she  earned  the  money." 

"  Yes,  and  I  knew  you  would,  mother ;  but — it  was  so 
very — "  and  the  child's  lips  began  to  quiver  again. 

"  She  is  so  excited,  poor  thing,"  said  Ruth,  drawing  her 
to  her  bosom ;  "  don't  talk  about  it  now,  Katy  ;  lean  your 
head  on  me  and  take  a  nice  nap ;"  and  the  weary  child 
nestled  up  to  her  mother,  while  Nettie  put  one  finger  on 
her  lip,  with  a  sagacious  look  at  Mr.  Walter,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "/will  keep  still  if  you  will." 

"  She  does  not  resemble  you  as  much  as  Nettie  does," 
said  Mr.  Grey  to  Ruth,  in  a  whisper. 

"  She  is  like  her  father,"  said  Ruth  ;  the  "  resemblance 
is  quite  startling  when  she  is  sleeping;  the  same  breadth 
of  forehead,  the  same  straight  nose,  and  full  lips. 

"  Yes,  it  has  often  been  a  great  solace  to  me,"  said 
Ruth,  after  a  pause,  "  to  sit  at  Katy's  bedside,  and  aid 
memory  by  gazing  at  features  which  recalled  so  vividly 
tho  loved  and  lost ;"  and  she  kissed  the  little  nestler. 


RUTH       HALL.  353 

"  Nettie,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  "  is  Ruth  3d,  in  face,  form 
and  feature." 

"  I  wish  the  resemblance  ended  there,"  whispered 
Ruth,  with  a  sigh.  "  These  rose-tinted  dawns  too  often 
foreshadow  the  storm-cloud." 


CHAPTER   LXXXII. 

A  N  hour  after  the  conversation  narrated  in  the  last 
**•  chapter,  the  driver  stopped  at  a  fine-looking  hotel. 

"  This  is  the  place,  then,  where  you  are  going  to  stay 
for  a  few  weeks,  before  you  leave  this  part  of  the  coun 
try  for  —  — ,"  said  Mr.  Walter  ;  "  allow  me  to  speak 
for  a  dinner  for  us  all ;  such  a  day  as  this  does  not  dawn 
on  us  often  in  this  world  ;"  and  he  glanced  affectionately 
at  little  Katy. 

The  party  was  soon  seated  round  a  plentifully-fur 
nished  table.  Nettie  stopped  at  every  other  mouthful  to 
look  into  Katy's  eyes,  or  to  kiss  her,  while  little  Katy 
gazed  about  bewilderingly,  and  grasped  her  mother's 
hand  tightly  whenever  her  ear  caught  the  sound  of  a 
strange  voice  or  footstep. 

"  Will  you  have  some  soup,  little  puss  ?"  said  Mr. 
Walter,  after  they  were  seated  at  the  table,  pulling  one 
of  Nettie's  long  curls. 

"  Ask  my  mother,"  replied  the  child,  with  a  quizzical 
look  ;  "  she 's  the  sow^-erintendent." 


RUTH       HALL.  855 

Mr.  Walter  threw  up  his  hands,  and  a  general  shout 
followed  this  precocious  sally. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  when  he  had  done 
laughing ;  "  you  have  begun  too  early,  little  puss  ;  come 
here  and  let  me  feel  your  head.  I  must  take  a  phrenol 
ogical  look  at  you.  Bless  me  !  what  an  affectionate  little 
creature  you  must  be,"  said  he,  passing  his  hand  over  her 
head  ;  "  stick  a  pin  there  now,  while  I  examine  the  rest  of 
your  bumps." 

"  You  must  not  stick  a  pin  in  my  head,"  said  Nettie  ; 
"  I  don  't  like  that  way  of  expressing  an  a-pin-ion" 

"  No  further  examination  is  necessary,"  said  the  ex 
tinguished  Mr.  Walter  ;  "  I  have  done  with  you,  Miss 
Nettie.  What  do  you  mean  ?"  whispered  he  to  Ruth, 
"  by  having  such  a  child  as  that  ?•  Are  we  going  to  have 
another  genius  in  the  family  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Ruth,  laughing  ;  "  she 
often  says  such  things  when  she  gets  excited  and  hilari 
ous,  but  I  never  encourage  it  by  notice,  and  you  must 
not ;  my  physician  told  me  not  to  teach  her  anything, 
and  by  all  means  not  to  let  her  see  the  inside  of  a  school 
room  at  present." 

{:  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  ';  Miss  Nettie  and  I 
must  have  a  tilt  at  punning  some  day.  You  had  better 
engage,  Ruth,  to  furnish  the  Knickerbocker  with  smart  rep 
artees  for  his  '  Children's  Table,'  from  your  own  fire 
side." 


356  RUTH       HALL. 

" Prenez  garde"  whispered  Ruth,  "  don't  spoil  her. 
Such  a  child  needs  careful  training  ;  she  is  high-spirited, 
warm-hearted,  and  sensitive  ;"  and  Ruth  sighed. 

"  I  interpret  your  thoughts,"  said  Mr.  Walter ;  "  but 
we  must  have  no  backward  glances  to-day.  Those  chil 
dren  will  never  suffer  what  you  have  suffered ;  few  women 
ever  did.  Ruth,  for  the  thousandth  time  I  tell  you,  you 
are  a  brave  woman  !" 

" — Upon  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  suddenly, 
blushing  and  thrusting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  "  I  have 
committed  the  sin  so  common  to  all  man-kind ;  carried 
letters  for  you  round  in  my  pocket  all  this  time,  without 
delivering  them  :  here  they  are.  I  never  saw  a  woman 
have  so  many  letters  as  you  do,  '  Floy ;'  you  '11  need  a 
private  secretary  before  long." 

Ruth  broke  the  seal  of  one,  saying,  "  You  '11  excuse 
me  a  few  moments,"  and  read : 

"  To'  FLOY': 

"  DEAR  MADAM, — We  have  established  a  very  successful 
Infant  School  in  our  neighborhood,  numbering  about  fifty 
pupils.  Our  first  anniversary  occurs  next  month.  It  is 
our  intention  to  gather  together  the  parents  and  children, 
and  have  a  sort  of  jubilee;  hymns  will  be  sung,  and  short 
pieces  spoken.  We  should  be  very  much  obliged  to  you 
if  you  would  write  us  a  little  dialogue  to  be  repeated  by 
two  little  girls,  of  the  age  of  six ;  something  sweet  and 


RUTH       HALL.  857 

simple,  such  as  you  know  how  to  write.  We  make  no 
apology  for  thus  intruding  on  your  time,  because  we 
know  your  heart  is  with  the  children. 

"  Yours  respectfully,  JOHN  DEAN. 

"Secretary  of  the  Leftbow  Infant  School." 

"  Patience,  gentlemen,  while  I  read  No.  2,"  said  Ruth. 
No.  2  ran  as  follows  : 

"  DEAR  '  FLOY'  : 

"  Old  Guardy  has  sent  me  up  to  this  academy.  I  hate 
academies.  I  hate  Guardy's.  I  hate  everything  but 
snipe  shooting  and  boating.  Just  now  I  am  in  a  horrid 
fix.  Every  fellow  in  this  academy  has  to  write  a  com 
position  once  a  week.  I  cannot  do  it.  I  never  could. 
My  talents  don't  lie  in  that  way.  I  don't  know  where 
they  do  lie.  What  I  want  of  you  is  to  write  those  com 
positions  for  me.  You  can  do  it  just  as  easy  as  water 
runs  down  hill.  You  could  scratch  one  off  while  I  am 
nibbing  my  pen.  Old  Phillips  will  think  they  are  un 
common  smart  for  me ;  but  never  mind,  I  shall  keep 
dark,  and  you  are  such  a  good  soul  I  know  you  can't  re 
fuse.  My  cigars  have  been  out  two  whole  days ;  so  you 
may  know  that  I  have  no  funds,  else  I  would  send  you  a 
present. 

"  Yours  truly,  HAL.  HUNNEWELL." 

After  glancing  over  this  letter  Ruth  broke  into  a  merry 


358  RUTH       HALL. 

laugh,  and  saying,  "  This  is  too  good  to  keep,"  read  it 
aloud  for  the  amusement  of  the  company,  \vho  unani 
mously  voted  Hal.  Hunnewell  a  composition  every  week, 
for  his  precocious  impudence. 

"  Come,  now,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  as  Ruth  took  up  No. 
3,  "  if  you  have  another  of  the  same  sort,  let  us  hear  it, 
unless  it  "be  of  a  confidential  nature." 

Ruth  looked  over  the  letter  a  moment,  and  then  read  : 

"  DEAR  «  FLOY'  : 

"  Mamma  has  read  me  some  of  your  stories.  I  like 
them  very  much.  You  say  you  love  little  children. 
Don't  you  think  we  Ve  got  a  bran  new  baby !  It  came 
last  night  when  I  was  asleep  in  my  trundle-bed.  It  is  a 
little  pink  baby.  Mamma  says  it  will  grow  white  by- 
and-bye.  It  has  got  such  funny  little  fingers ;  they  look 
all  wrinkled,  just  like  our  maid's  when  she  has  been  at  the 
wash-tub.  Mother  has  to  stay  in  bed  with  him  to  keep 
him  warm, he 's  such  a  little  cold,  shaky  thing.  He  hasn't 
a  bit  of  hair,  and  he  scowls  like  everything,  but  I  guess  he  '11 
be  pretty  by-and-bye.  Anyhow  I  love  him.  I  asked 
mother  if  I  might  not  write  and  tell  you  about  him,  and 
she  laughed  and  said,  I  don't  know  who  '  Floy'  is,  nor 
where  she  lives ;  but  Uncle  Jack  (he  gives  me  lots  of 
candy  and  dolls)  said  that  I  must  send  it  to  '  Floy's'  pub 
lishers  !  I  don't  know  what  a  publisher  is,  and  so  I  told 
Uncle  Jack ;  and  he  laughed  and  said  he  would  lose  his 


RUTH       HALL.  359 

guess  if  I  did  n't  have  something  to  do  with  them  one  of 
these  days.  I  don't  know  what  that  meant  either,  and 
when  I  asked  him,  he  said  '  go  away,  Puss.'  I  think  it 
is  very  nice  to  have  an  Uncle  Jack  at  Christmas  and 
New  Year's,  but  other  times  they  only  plague  little  chil 
dren.  I  wish  I  could  see  you.  How  do  you  look  ?  I 
guess  you  look  like  mamma  ;  mamma  has  got  blue  eyes, 
and  soft  brown  hair,  and  her  mouth  looks  very  pleasant 
when  she  smiles.  Mamma's  voice  is  as  sweet  as  a  robin's, 
so  papa  says.  Papa  is  a  great  big  man,  so  big  that  no 
body  could  ever  hurt  me,  or  mamma.  Papa  wants  to 
see  you  too.  Won't  you  write  me  a  letter,  a  little  letter 
all  to  myself  ?  I  Ve  got  a  box  made  of  rosewood,  with  a 
lock  and  key  on  it,  where  I  *d  hide  it  from  Uncle  Jack, 
(that  would  tease  him !)  Uncle  Jack  wants  to  see  you 
too,  but  I  hope  you  never  will  let  him,  for  he 's  such  a 
terrible  tease,  he  'd  plague  you  dreadfully.  I  guess  our 
baby  would  send  his  love  to  you  if  he  only  knew  you. 
Please  write  me  soon,  and  send  it  to  Kitty  Mills,  care  of 
Uncle  Jack  Mills,  and  please  seal  it  up  all  tight,  so  he 
cannot  peep  into  it. 

"  P.  S. — I  want  you  to  write  a  book  of  stories  for  little 
girls,  and  don't  make  them  end  bad,  because  it  makes  me 
cry  ;  nor  put  any  ghosts  in  them,  because  it  scares  me ; 
or  have  any  '  moral '  down  at  the  bottom,  because  Uncle 
Jack  always  asks  me  if  I  skipped  it.  Write  something 


360  RUTH       HALL. 

funny,  won't  you  ?  I  like  funny  things,  and  fairy  stories* 
Oh,  I  like  fairy  stories  so  much  I  Was  n't  it  nice  about 
the  mice  and  the  pumpkin,  in  Cinderella  1  Make  them 
all  end  well,  won't  you  1 

"  Your  affectionate  little  KITTY." 

"  I  suppose  you  do  not  feel  any  curiosity  to  know  what 
the  papers  say  about  your  book,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  as 
Ruth  refolded  her  letters.  "  I  have  quite  a  stock  of  no 
tices  in  my  pocket,  which  I  have  saved  up.  You  seem  to 
have  taken  the  public  heart  by  storm.  You  could  not  de 
sire  better  notices ;  and  the  best  of  it  is,  they  are  spon 
taneous — neither  begged  nor  in  a  measure  demanded,  bv 
a  personal  call  upon  the  editors." 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Ruth. 

"  Look  at '  the  spirit  of  '76 '  flashing  from  her  eyot, 
said  Mr.  Grey,  laughing,  as  he  pointed  at  Ruth. 

"  I  mean  this,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  "  that  not  long  since  I 
expressed  my  surprise  to  an  able  critic  and  reviewer,  that 
he  could  praise  a  certain  book,  which  he  must  have  known 
was  entirely  deficient  in  merit  of  any  kind.  His  answer 
was :  '  The  authoress  of  that  book  made  a  call  on  me  at 
my  office,  deprecated  in  the  strongest  terms  any  adverse 
criticism  in  the  paper  with  which  I  am  connected ;  said 
that  other  papers  would  take  their  tone  from  mine,  that  it 
was  her  first  book,  and  that  her  pen  was  her  only  means 


RUTH       HALL.  361 

of  support,  &c.,  &c.  What  can  a  man  do  under  such  cir 
cumstances  V  said  my  informant." 

"  How  could  she  ?"  said  Ruth.  "  Of  what  ultimate  ad 
vantage  could  it  be  ?  It  might  have  procured  the  sale  of 
a  few  copies  at  first,  but  a  book,  like  water,  will  find  its 
level.  But  what  astonishes  me  most  of  all  is,  that  any 
able  reviewer  should  be  willing  to  risk  his  reputation  as 
a  critic  by  such  promiscuous  puffery.  How  are  the  peo 
ple  to  know  when  he  speaks  his  real  sentiments?  It 
strikes  me,"  said  Ruth,  laughing,  "  that  such  a  critic 
should  have  some  cabalistic  mark  by  which  the  initiated 
may  understand  when  he  speaks  truthfully.  It  is  such 
a  pity!"  continued  Ruth  thoughtfully;  "it  so  neutral 
izes  criticism.  It  is  such  a  pity,  too,  that  an  authoress 
could  be  found  so  devoid  of  self-respect  as  to  do  such  a 
thing.  It  is  such  an  injury  to  those  women  who  would 
disdain  so  to  fetter  criticism  ;  who  would  launch  their 
book  like  a  gallant  ship,  prepared  for  adverse  gales, 
not  sneaking  near  the  shore,  or  lowering  their  flag  for  fear 
of  a  stray  shot," 

"  Do  you  know,  Ruth,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  "  when  I  hear 
you  talk,  I  no  longer  wonder  at  Hyacinth's  lack  of  inde 
pendence  and  common  sense ;  his  share  must,  by  some 
unaccountable  mistake,  have  been  given  to  you  in  ad 
dition  to  your  own.  But  where  are  the  children  ?" 

They  looked  around ;  Katy  and  Nettie,  taking  advan 
tage  of  this  prolonged  discussion,  had  slid  from  the  table, 

10 


8G2  K  u  T  ii     HALL. 

in  company  with  a  plate  of  nuts  and  raisins,  and  were 
holding  an  animated  conversation  in  a  further  corner. 

"  Why  !  what  a  great,  big  mark  on  your  arm,  Katy," 
exclaimed  Nettie ;  "  how  did  it  come  ?" 

"  Hush  !"  replied  Katy ;  "  grandma  did  it.  She  talked 
very  bad  about  mamma  to  grandpa,  and  I  started  to  go 
up  into  my  little  room,  because,  you  know,  I  couldn't 
bear  to  hear  it ;  and  she  called  to  me,  and  said,  '  Katy, 
what  are  you  leaving  the  room  for1?'  and  you  know, 
Nettie,  mamma  teaches  us  always  to  tell  the  truth,  so 
I  said,  '  because  I  cannot  bear  to  stay  and  hear  you  say 
what  is  not  true  about  my  mamma.'  And  then  grandma 
threw  down  her  knitting,  seized  me  by  the  arm,  and  set 
me  down,  oh,  so  hard,  on  a  chair ;  and  said,  '  but  you 
shall  hear  it.'  Then,  oh,  Nettie,  I  could  not  hear  it,  so  I 
put  my  fingers  in  both  ears  ;  and  then  she  beat  me,  and 
left  that  place  on  my  arm,  and  held  both  my  hands  while 
she  made  me  listen." 

During  this  recital,  Nettie's  eyes  glowed  like  living 
coals.  When  Katy  concluded,  she  clenched  her  little 
fists,  and  said : 

"  Katy,  why  did  n't  you  strike  her  ?" 

Katy  shook  her  head,  and  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  Oh, 
Nettie,  she  would  have  killed  me  !  When  she  got  angry 
she  looked  just  like  that  picture  of  Satan  we  saw  once  in 
the  shop  window." 

"  Katy,  I  must  do  something  to  her,"  said  Nettie,  clos- 


R  L*  T  II       HALL.  363 

ing  her  teeth  together,  and  planting  her  tiny  foot  firmly 
upon  the  floor  ;  "  she  shan't  talk  so  about  mamma.  Oh, 
if  I  was  only  a  big  woman  !" 

';I  suppose  we  must  forgive  her,"  said  Katy  thought 
fully. 

"  /won't,"  said  the  impulsive  little  Nettie,  "  never — 
never — never." 

"  Then  you  cannot  say  your  prayers,"  said  the  wise 
little  Katy ;  "'forgive  us,  as  we  forgive  those  who  have 
trespassed  against  us.'" 

"  What  a  pity !"  exclaimed  the  orthodox  Nettie  ; 
"  don't  you  wish  that  had  n't  been  put  in  1  What  shall 
we  do,  Katy  ?" 

"  Nettie,"  said  her  mother,  who  had  approached  unno 
ticed,  "  what  did  you  mean  when  you  said  just  now,  that 
you  wished  you  were  a  big  woman "?" 

Nettie  hung  her  head  for  a  minute,  and  twisted  the 
corner  of  her  apron  irresolutely  ;  at  last  she  replied  with 
a  sudden  effort,  "  you  won't  love  me,  mamma,  but  I  will 
tell  you  ;  I  wanted  to  cut  grandma's  head  off." 

Little  Katy  laughed  outright,  as  the  idea  of  this  Lilli 
putian  combatant  presented  itself.  Ruth  looked  serious. 
"  That  is  not  right,  Nettie,"  said  she ;  "  your  grand 
mother  is  an  unhappy,  miserable  old  woman.  She  has 
punished  herself  worse  than  anybody  else  could  punish 
her.  She  is  more  miserable  than  ever  now,  because  I 
have  earned  money  to  support  you  and  Katy.  She  might 


364  RUTH      HALL. 

have  made  us  all  love  her,  and  help  to  make  her  old  age 
cheerful ;  but  now,  unless  she  repents,  she  will  live  mis 
erably,  and  die  forsaken,  for  nobody  can  love  her  with 
such  a  temper.  This  is  a  dreadful  old  age,  Nettie !" 

"I  think  I'll  forgive  her,"  said  Nettie,  jumping  into 
her  mother's  lap  ;  "  but  I  hope  I  shan't  ever  hear  her  say 
anything  against  you,  mother.  I  'm  glad  I  was  n't  Katy. 
Did  n't  you  ever  wish,  Katy,  that  she  might  fall  down 
stairs  and  break  her  neck,  or  catch  a  fever,  or  some 
thing  ?" 

"  Oh,  mother,  what  a  funny  girl  Nettie  is  !"  said  Katy, 
laughing  till  the  tears  came  ;  "  I  had  almost  forgotten  her 
queer  ways !  Oh,  how  grandmother  would  have  boxed 
your  ears,  Nettie !" 

The  incorrigible  Nettie  cut  one  of  her  pirouettes  across 
the  room,  and  snapped  her  fingers  by  way  of  answer  to 
this  assertion. 

While  Euth  and  her  children  were  conversing,  the  two 
gentlemen  were  quite  as  absorbed  in  another  corner  of 
the  apartment. 

"It  astonishes  me,"  said  Mr.  Grey  to  Mr.  Walter, 
"  that  '  Floy '  should  be  so  little  elated  by  her  wonderful 
success." 

"  It  will  cease  to  do  so  when  you  know  her  better," 
said  Mr.  Walter  ;  "  the  map  of  life  has  been  spread  out 
before  her ;  she  has  stood  singing  on  its  breezy  heights — 


RUTH       HALL.  805 

she  has  lain  weeping  in  its  gloomy  valleys.  Flowers 
have  strewn  her  pathway — and  thorns  have  pierced  her 
tender  feet.  The  clusters  of  the  promised  land  have 
moistened  her  laughing  lip  —  the  Dead  Sea  apple  has 
mocked  her  wasted  fingers.  Rainbows  have  spanned 
her  sky  like  a  glory,  and  storms  have  beat  pitilessly  on 
her  defenceless  head.  Eyes  have  beamed  upon  her  smil 
ing  welcome.  When  wounded  and  smitten,  she  fainted 
by  the  way,  the  priest  and  the  Levite  have  passed 
by  on  the  other  side.  '  Floy  '  knows  every  phase  of 
the  human  heart ;  she  knows  that  she  was  none  the 
less  worthy  because  poor  and  unrecognized  ;  she  knows 
how  much  of  the  homage  now  paid  her  is  due  to 
the  showy  setting  of  the  gem  ;  therefore,  she  takes  all 
these  things  at  their  true  valuation.  Then,  my  friend," 
and  Mr.  "Walter's  voice  became  tremulous,  "  amid  all 
these  'well  done'  plaudits,  the  loved  voice  is  silent.  The 
laurel  crown  indeed  is  won,  but  the  feet  at  which  she  fain 
would  cast  it  have  finished  their  toilsome  earth-march." 

"It  is  time  we  gentlemen  were  going ;  let  us  talk 
business  now,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  as  Ruth  returned  from 
her  conversation  with  the  children.  "  How  long  did  you 
propose  remaining  here,  Ruth  f 

"  For  a  month  or  so,"  she  replied.  "  I  have  several 
matters  I  wish  to  arrange  before  bidding  adieu  to  this 
part  of  the  country,  I  shall  try  to  get  through  as  soon 


866  R  U  T  n     HALL. 

as  possible,  for  I  long  to- be  settled  in  a  permanent  and 
comfortable  home." 

"  I  shall  return  this  way  in  a  month  or  six  weeks," 
said  Mr.  Walter,  "  and  if  you  are  ready  at  that  time,  I 
shall  be  most  happy  to  escort  you  and  your  children  to 
your  new  residence." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Ruth.  "Good-bye,  good-bye," 
shouted  both  the  children,  as  the  two  gentlemen  left  the 
room. 


CHAPTER    IXXXIII. 

"  T    DON'T  know  about  holding  you   both  in  my  lap 
at  once,"  said  Ruth  smiling,  as  Nettie  climbed  up 
after  Katy. 

"  Do,  please,"  said  Nettie,  "  and  now  let  us  have  a  nice 
talk  ;  tell  us  where  we  are  going  to  live,  mamma,  and  if 
we  can  have  a  kitty  or  a  rabbit,  or  some  live  thing  to 
play  with,  and  if  we  are  going  to  school,  and  if  you  are 
going  to  leave  off  writing  now,  and  play  with  Katy  and 
me,  and  go  to  walk  with  us,  and  ride  with  us.  Shan't  we 
have  some  rides  1  What  is  the  matter,  mamma  f  said 
the  little  chatterbox,  noticing  a  tear  in  her  mothers  eye. 
"  I  was  thinking,  dear,  how  happy  we  are." 
"  Is  n't  that  funny  ?"  said  Nettie  to  Katy,  "  that  mam 
ma  should  cry  when  she  is  happy  1  I  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing.  /  don't  cry  when  I  'm  happy.  Didn't  we 
have  a  good  dinner,  Katy  ?  Oh,  I  like  this  house.  It  was 
such  an  old  dark  room  we  used  to  live  in,  and  there  was 


368  RUTH       HALL. 

nothing  pretty  to  look  at,  and  mamma  kept  on  vr  .icing, 
and  I  had  nothing  to  play  with,  except  a  little  mouse,  who 
used  to  peep  out  of  his  hole,  when  it  came  dark,  for 
some  supper.  I  liked  him,  he  was  so  cunning,  but  I 
could  n't  give  him  any  supper,  because — "  here  the  little 
chatterbox  glanced  at  her  mother,  and  then  placing  her 
mouth  to  Katy's  ear,  whispered,  with  a  look  the  gravity  of 
which  was  irresistible,  "  because  mamma  could  n't  sup 
port  a  mouse."  ^ 

Euth  laughed  heartily  as  she  overheard  the  remark, 
and  Nettie  thought  her  mother  more  of  a  puzzle  than  ever 
that  she  should  keep  laughing  and  crying  so  in  the  wrong 
place. 

"  What  have  you  there,  Nettie  T  asked  Katy. 

"  Something,"  said  Nettie,  looking  very  wise,  as  sho 
hid  her  chubby  hands  under  her  pinafore.  "  It  is  a  secret. 
Mamma  and  I  know,"  said  she  with  a  very  important  air, 
"  don't  we,  mamma  ?  Would  you  tell  Katy,  mother,  if 
you  were  me  1" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Euth  ;  "  you  know  it  would  not  be 
pleasant  to  keep  such  a  great  secret  from  Katy." 

Nettie  looked  very  searchingly  into  her  mother's  eyes, 
but  she  saw  nothing  there  but  sincerity. 

*'  Won't  you  ever  tell,  Katy  ever  ?  it  is  a  terrible 
secret." 

"  No,"  replied  Katy,  laughing. 

"  Not  even  to  Mr.  Walter  ?"  asked  Nettie,  who  had 


RUTH       II  A.  L  L  .  8fi9 

J earned  to  consider  Mr.  Walter  as  their  best  friend,  and 
the  impersonation  of  all  that  was  manly  and  chival 
rous. 

Katy  shook  her  head  negatively. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Nettie,  hanging  her  head  with  a 
pretty  shame,  "/'«&  in  love!" 

Katy  burst  into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  laughter,  rock 
ing  herself  to  and  fro,  and  ejaculating,  "  Oh  !  mamma  ! 
oh  !  did  you  ever  ?  Oh,  how  funny  !" 

"  Funny  '?"  said  Nettie,  with  the  greatest  naivete,  "  it 
was  n't  funny  at  all ;  it  was  very  nice.  I  '11  tell  you  all 
how  it  happened,  Katy.  You  see  I  used  to  get  so  tired 
when  you  were  away,  when  I  had  nobody  to  play  with, 
and  mamma  kept  up  such  a  thinking.  So  mamma  said  I 
might  go  to  a  little  free  school  opposite,  half-a-day,  when 
I  felt  like  it,  and  perhaps  that  would  amuse  me.  Mam 
ma  told  the  teacher  not  to  trouble  herself  about  teaching 
me  much.  Well,  I  sat  on  a  little  low  bench,  and  right 
opposite  me,  across  the  room,  was  such  a  pretty  little 
boy  !  his  name  was  Neddy.  He  had  on  a  blue  jacket, 
with  twelve  bright  buttons  on  it ;  I  counted  them  ;  and 
little  plaid  pants  and  drab  gaiters  ;  and  his  cheeks  were 
so  rosy,  and  his  hair  so  curly,  and  his  eyes  so  bright,  oh, 
Katy  !"  and  Nettie  clasped  her  little  hands  together  in  a 
paroxysm  of  admiration.  "  Well,  Katy,  he  kept  smiling 
at  me,  and  in  recess  he  used  to  give  me  half  his  apple, 

and  once,  when  nobody  was  looking, — would  you  tell  her 
16* 


370  RUTH       HALL. 

mamma  f  said  Nettie,  doubtfully, *as  she  ran  up  to  her 
mother.  "  Won't  you  tell,  now,  Katy,  certainly  1"  again 
asked  Nettie. 

"  No,"  promised  Katy. 

"  Not  even  to  Mr.  Walter  ?" 

«  No." 

"Well,  once,  when  the  teacher  wasn't  looking,  Katy, 
he  took  a  piece  of  chalk  and  wrote  '  Nettie  '  on  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  and  held  it  up  to  me  and  then  kissed  it  j" 
and  Nettie  hid  her  glowing  face  on  Katy's  neck,  whisper 
ing,  "wasn't  it  beautiful,  Katy  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Katy,  trying  to  keep  from  laughing. 

"Well,"  said  Nettie,  "I  felt  most  ashamed  to  tell 
mamma,  I  don't  know  why,  though.  I  believe  I  was 
afraid  that  she  would  call  it  '  silly,'  or  something  ;  and  I 
felt  just  as  if  I  should  cry  if  she  did.  But,  Katy,  she 
did  not  think  it  silly  a  bit.  She  said  it  was  beautiful  to 
be  loved,  and  that  it  made  everything  on  earth  look 
brighter ;  and  that  she  was  glad  little  Neddy  loved  me, 
and  that  I  might  love  him  just  as  much  as  ever  I  liked — 
just  the  same  as  if  he  were  a  little  girl.  Was  n't  that 
nice  f '  asked  Nettie.  "  I  always  mean  to  tell  mamma 
everything ;  don't  you,  Katy  ?" 

"  But  you  have  not  told  Katy,  yet,  what  you  have  hid 
den  under  your  apron,  there,"  said  Ruth. 

"  Sure  enough,"  said  Nettie,  producing  a  little  picture. 
"  Well,  Neddy  whispered  to  me  one  day  in  recess,  that 


RUTH       HALL.  371 

he  had  drawn  a  pretty  picture  on  purpose  for  me,  and 
that  he  was  going  to  have  a  lottery  ;  I  don't  know  what 
a  lottery  is  ;  but  ho  cut  a  great  many  slips  of  paper,  some 
long  and  some  short,  and  the  one  who  got  the  longest 
was  to  have  the  picture.  Then  he  put  a  little  tiny  mark 
on  the  end  of  the  longest,  so  that  I  should  know  it ;  and 
then  I  got  the  picture,  you  know." 

"  Why  did  he  take  all  that  trouble  V  asked  the  practi 
cal  Katy.  "  Why  did  n't  he  give  it  to  you  right  out,  if 
he  wanted  to  ?" 

"  Because — because,"  said  Nettie,  twirling  her  thumbs, 
and  blushing  with  a  little  feminine  shame  at  her  boy- 
lover's  want  of  independence,  "he  said — he — was — 
afraid — the — boys — would — laugh  at  him  if  they  found  it 
out." 

"  Well,  then,  I  \vould  n't  have  taken  it,  if  I  had  been 
you,"  said  the  phlegmatic  Katy. 

"  But,  you  know,  I  loved  him  so,"  said  Nettie  naively. 


CHAPTER    IXXXIV. 


TV  AYS  and  weeks  flew  by.  Katy  and  Nettie  were  never 
weary  of  comparing  notes,  and  relating  experiences. 
Nettie  thought  gloomy  attics,  scant  fare  and  cross  land 
ladies,  the  climax  of  misery ;  and  Katy  considered  a 
score  of  mile-stones,  with  Nettie  and  a  loving  mother  at 
one  end,  and  herself  and  a  cross  grandmother  at  the 
other,  infinitely  worse. 

"  Why,  you  can't  tell  anything  about  it,"  said  Katy. 
"  Grandma  took  away  a  little  kitty  because  I  loved  it, 
and  burned  up  a  story-book  mamma  brought  me,  and 
tore  up  a  letter  which  mamma  printed  in  big  capitals  on 
a  piece  of  paper  for  me  to  read  when  I  was  lonesome ; 
and  she  would  n't  let  me  food  the  little  snow-birds  when 
they  came  shivering  round  the  door ;  and  she  made  me 
eat  turnips  when  they  made  me  sick  ;  and  she  said  I  musft 
not  run  when  I  went  to  school,  for  fear  it  would  wear  my 
shoes  out ;  and  she  put  me  to  bed  so  early  ;  and  I  used 


RUTH       HALL.  373 

to  lie  and  count  the  stars  (I  liked  the  seven  little  stars 
all  cuddled  up  together  best) ;  and  sometimes  I  looked 
at  the  moon  and  thought  I  saw  faces  and  mountains  in  it, 
and  I  wondered  if  it  was  shining  into  mamma's  window ; 
and  then  I  thought  of  you  all  snug  in  mamma's  bed ;  and 
then  I  cried  and  cried,  and  got  up  and  looked  out  into  the 
road,  and  wondered  if  I  could  not  run  away  in  the  night, 
when  grandmother  was  asleep.  Oh,  Nettie,  she  was  a 
dreadful  grandmother  !  She  tried  to  make  me  stop  lov 
ing  mother.  She  told  me  that  she  loved  you  better  than 
she  did  me ;  and  then  I  wanted  to  die.  I  thought  of  it 
every  night.  I  knew  it  was  not  true,  but  it  kept  trou 
bling  me.  And  then  she  said  that  very  likely  mamma 
would  go  off  somewhere  without  letting  me  know  any 
thing  about  it,  and  never  sec  me  again.  And  she  always 
said  such  things  just  as  I  was  going  to  bed  ;  and  then  you 
know  I  could  not  get  to  sleep  till  almost  morning,  and 
when  I  did,  I  dreamed  such  dreadful  dreams." 

"  You  poor  little  thing  !''  exclaimed  Nettie,  with  pa 
tronizing  sympathy,  to  her  elder  sister,  and  laying  her 
cheek  against  hers,  "  you  poor  little  thing  !  Well,  mam 
ma  and  I  had  a  horrid  time,  too.  You  can't  imagine  ! 
The  wind  blew  into  the  cracks  of  the  room  so  cold  ;  and 
the  stove  smoked  ;  and  I  was  afraid  to  eat  when  we  had 
any  supper,  for  fear  mamma  would  not  have  enough. 
She  always  said  '  I  am  not  hungry,  dear,'  but  I  think  she 
did  it  to  make  me  eat  more.  And  one  night  mamma  had 


374  RUTH       HALL. 

no  money  to  buy  candles,  and  she  wrote  by  moonlight ; 
and  I  often  heard  her  cry  when  she  thought  I  was  asleep ; 
and  I  was  so  afraid  of  mamma's  landladies,  they  screamed 
so  loud,  and  scowled  at  me  so ;  and  the  grocer's  boy 
made  faces  at  me  when  I  went  in  for  a  loaf  of  bread,  and 
said  '  Oh,  ain't  we  a  fine  lady,  aint  we  V  And  the  wheel 
was  off  my  old  tin  cart — and — oh — dear — Katy — "  and 
Nettie's  little  voice  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  the 
little  chatterbox  and  her  listener  both  fell  asleep. 

Euth,  as  she  listened  in  the  shadow  of  the  further  cor 
ner,  thanked  God  that  they  who  had  had  so  brief  an  ac 
quaintance  with  life's  joys,  so  early  an  introduction  to 
life's  cares,  were  again  blithe,  free,  and  joyous,  as  child 
hood  ever  should  be.  How  sweet  to  have  it  in  her  power 
to  hedge  them  in  with  comforts,  to  surround  them  with 
pleasures,  to  make  up  to  them  for  every  tear  of  sorrow 
they  had  shed, — to  repay  them  for  the  mute  glance  of 
sympathy — the  silent  caress — given,  they  scarce  knew 
why,  (but,  oh,  how  touching !  how  priceless  !)  when  her 
own  heart  was  breaking. 

And  there  they  lay,  in  their  pretty  little  bed,  sleeping 
cheek  to  cheek,  with  arms  thrown  around  each  other. 
]sjettie — courageous,  impulsive,  independent,  irrepressi 
ble,  but  loving,  generous,  sensitive,  and  noble-hearted, 
j^aty — with  veins  through  which  the  life-blood  flowed 
more  evenly,  thoughtful,  discriminating,  diffident,  reserved, 
(so  proud  of  those  magnetic  qualities  in  her  little  sister, 


R  U  T  II       HALL.  375 

in  which  she  was  lacking,  as  to  do  injustice  to  her  own 
solid  but  less  showy  traits ;)  needing  ever  the  kind  word 
of  encouragement,  and  judicious  praise,  to  stimulate  into  w 
life  the  dormant  seeds  of  self-reliance.  Ruth  kissed  them 
i>oth,  and  left  their  future  with  Him  who  doeth  all  things 
irell. 

Twelve  o'clock  at  night !  Ruth  lies  dreaming  by  the 
side  of  her  children. 

She  dreams  that  she  roves  with  them  through  lovely 
gardens,  odorous  with  sweets ;  she  plucks  for  their 
parched  lips  the  luscious  fruits ;  she  garlands  them  with 
flowers,  and  smiles  in  her  sleep,  as  their  beaming  eyes 
sparkle,  and  the  rosy  flush  of  happiness  mantles  their 
chcvks.  But  look  I  th.Tc  are  three  of  them  !  Another 
lias  joined  the  band — a  little  shadowy  form,  with  lam 
bent  eyes,  and  the  smile  of  a  seraph.  Blessed  little 
trio.  Follows  another  !  He  has  the  same  shadowy  out 
line — the  same  sweet,  holy,  yet  familiar  eyes.  Ruth's 
face  grows  radiant.  The  broken  links  are  gathered  up ; 
the  family  circle  is  complete  ! 

With  the  sudden  revulsion  of  dream-land,  the  scene 
changes.  She  dreams  that  the  cry  of  "  fire  !  fire  !"  re 
sounds  through  the  streets  ;  bells  ring — dogs  howl — • 
watchmen  spring  their  rattles — boys  shout — men  whoop, 
and  halloo,  as  they  drag  the  engine  over  the  stony  pave 
ments.  "  Fire  !  fire !"  through  street  after  street,  she 


376  RUTH     MALL. 

dreams  the  watch-word  flies !  Windows  are  thrown  up, 
and  many  a  night-capped  head  is  thrust  hastily  out,  and 
as  hastily  withdrawn,  when  satisfied  of  the  distant  danger. 
Still,  on  rush  the  crowd ;  the  heavens  are  one  broad  glare, 
and  still  the  wreathed  smoke  curls  over  the  distant 
houses.  From  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  doomed 
building,  the  forked  flame,  fanned  by  the  fury  of  the 
wind,  darts  out  its  thousand  fiery  tongues.  Women 
with  dishevelled  locks,  and  snow-white  vestments,  rush 
franticly  out,  bearing,  in  their  tightened  clasp,  the  sick, 
maimed,  and  helpless ;  while  the  noble  firemen,  heedless 
of  risk  and  danger,  plunge  fearlessly  into  the  heated  air 
of  the  burning  building. 

Now  Kuth  moves  uneasily  on  her  pillow ;  she  becomes 
conscious  of  a,  stifling,  choking  sensation ;  she  slowly 
opens  her  eyes.  God  in  heaven  !  it  is  not  all  a  dream  ! 
With  a  wild  shriek  she  springs  from  the  bed,  and 
snatching  from  it  her  bewildered  children,  flies  to  the 
stairway.  It  has  fallen  in  !  She  rushes  to  the  window, 
her  long  hair  floating  out  on  the  night-breeze. 

A  smothered  groan  from  the  crowd  below.  "  They 
are  lost!"  The  showering  cinders,  and  falling  rafters, 
have  shut  out  the  dreadful  tableau !  No — the  smoke 
clears  away  !  That  portion  of  the  building  still  remains, 
and  Ruth  and  her  children  are  clinging  to  it  with  the 
energy  of  despair.  Who  shall  save  them  ?  for  it  were 


K  U  T  H       HALL.  377 

death  to  mount  that  tottering  wall.  Men  hold  their 
breath,  and  women  shriek  in  terror.  See  !  a  ladder  is 
raised ;  a  gallant  fireman  scales  it.  Katy  and  Nettie  are 
dropped  into  the  outstretched  arms  of  the  crowd  below  ; 
the  strong,  brave  arm  of  Johnny  Gait  is  thrown  around 
Iiuth,  and  in  an  instant  she  lies  fainting  in  the  arms  of  a 
by-stander. 


The  butchering,  ambitious  conqueror,  impudently  issues 
his  bulletins  of  killed  and  wounded,  quenching  the  sud- 
light  in  many  a  happy  home.  The  world  shouts  bravo  ! 
bravo  !  Telegraph  wires  and  printing-presses  are  put  in 
requisition  to  do  him  honor.  Men  unharness  the  steeds 
from  his  triumphal  car,  and  draw  him  in  triumph  through 
the  flower-garlanded  streets.  Woman — gentle  woman, 
tosses  the  slaughtering  hero  wreaths  and  chaplets  ;  but  who 
turned  twice  to  look  at  brave  Johnny  Gait,  as,  writh  pallid 
lace,  and  smoky,  discolored  garments,  he  crawled  to  his 
obscure  home,  and  stretched  his  weary  limbs  on  his  mis 
erable  couch  ?  And  yet  the  clinging  grasp  of  rescued 
helplessness  was  still  warm  about  his  neck,  the  thrilling 
cry,  "  save  us !"  yet  rang  in  the  ears  of  the  heedless 
crowd.  God  bless  our  gallant,  noble,  but  unlionored  fire 
men. 


CHAPTER  LXXXV. 


"  STRANGE  we  do  not  hear  from  John,"  said  Mrs. 
Millet  to  her  wooden  husband,  as  he  sat  leisurely 
sipping  his  last  cup  of  tea,  and  chewing  the  cud  of  his  re 
flections  ;  "  I  want  to  hear  how  he  gets  on  ;  whether  he  is 
likely  to  get  any  practice,  and  if  his  office  is  located  to  suit 
him.  I  hope  Hyacinth  will  speak  a  good  word  for  him  ; 
it  is  very  hard  for  a  young  man  in  a  strange  place  to  get 
employment.  I  really  pity  John ;  it  must  be  so  disagree 
able  to  put  up  with  the  initiatory  humiliations  of  a  young 
physician  without  fortune  in  a  great  city." 

"  Can't  he  go  round  and  ask  people  to  give  him  work, 
just  like  cousin  Ruth?"  asked  a  sharp  little  Millet,  who 
was  playing  marbles  in  the  corner. 

"  It  is  time  you  were  in  bed,  Willy,"  said  his  discon 
certed  mother,  as  she  pointed  to  the  door ;  "  go  tell 
Nancy  to  put  you  to  bed. 

"As  I  was  saying,  Mr.  Millet,  it  is  very  hard  for 


RUTH        II  ALT,.  379 

poor  John — he  is  so  sensitive.  I  hope  he  has  a  nice 
boarding-house  among  refined  people,  and  a  pleasant 
room  with  everything  comfortable  and  convenient  about 
if  ;  lie  is  so  fastidious,  so  easily  disgusted  with  disagree 
able  surroundings,  I  hope  he  will  not  get  low-spirited. 
It'  lie  gets  practice  I  hope  he  will  not  have  to  walk  to  see  his 
patients  ;  he  ought  to  have  a  nice  chaise,  and  a  fine  horse, 
and  some  trusty  little  boy  to  sit  in  the  chaise  and  hold  the 
reins,  while  he  makes  his  calls.  I  hope  he  has  curtains 
to  his  sleeping-room  windows,  and  a  nice  carpet  on  the 
floor,  and  plenty  of  bed-clothes,  and  gas-light  to  read  by, 
and  a  soft  lounge  to  throw  himself  on  when  he  is  weary. 
Poor  John — I  wonder  "why  we  do  not  hear  from  him. 
Suppose  you  write  to-day,  Mr.  Millet '?" 

Mr.  Millet  wiped  his  mouth  on  his  napkin,  stroked  his 
chin,  pushed  Lack  his  cup  two  degrees,  crossed  his  knife 
and  fork  transversely  over  his  plate,  moved  back  his  chair 
two  feet  and  a  half,  hemmed  six  consecutive,  times,  and 
was  then  safely  delivered  of  the  following  remark  : 

"  My — over-coat." 

The  overcoat  was  brought  in  from  its  peg  in  the  entry ; 
the  left  pocket  was  disembowelled,  and  from  it  was  fer 
reted  out  a  letter  from  ';  John,'  (warranted  to  keep  !) 
which  had  lain  there  unopened  three  days.  Mrs.  Millet 
made  no  remark ;-— that  day  had  gone  by  ; — she  had  ate, 
drank,  and  slept,  with  that  petrifaction  too  long  to  be 
guilty  of  any  such  nonsense.  She  sat  down  with  a  res- 


380  RUTH      HALL. 

ignation  worthy  of  Socrates,  and  perused  the  following 
epistle : 

"  DEAR  MOTHER  : 

"  Well,  my  sign  hangs  out  my  office-door,  '  Doctor 
John  Millet,'  and  here  I  sit  day  after  day,  waiting  for 
patients — I  should  spell  it  patience.  This  is  a  great  city, 
and  there  are  plenty  of  accidents  happening  every  hour  in 
the  twenty-four,  but  unluckily  for  me  there  are  more  than 
plenty  of  doctors  to  attend  to  them,  as  every  other  door 
has  one  of  their  signs  swinging  out.  Hyacinth  has  been 
sick,  and  I  ran  up  there  the  other  day,  thinking,  as  he  is  a 
public  man,  it  might  be  some  professional  advantage  to 
me  to  have  my  name  mentioned  in  connection  with  his 
sickness ;  he  has  a  splendid  place,  six  or  eight  servants, 
and  everything  on  a  corresponding  scale. 

To  think  of  Ruth's  astonishing  success  !  I  was  in  hopes 
it  might  help  me  a  little  in  the  way  of  business,  to  say 
that  she  was  my  cousin ;  but  she  has  cut  me  dead.  How 
could  /tell  she  was  going  to  be  so  famous,  when  I  request 
ed  her  not  to  allow  her  children  to  call  me  '  cousin  John ' 
in  the  street?  I  tell  you,  mother,  we  all  missed  a  figure 
in  turning  the  cold  shoulder  to  her ;  and  how  much  money 
she  has  made !  I  might  sit  in  my  office  a  month,  and 
riot  earn  so  much  as  she  can  by  her  pen  in  one  forenoon. 
Yes — there 's  no  denying  it,  we  've  all  made  a  great  mis- 


RUTH       HALL.  381 

take.  Brother  Tom  writes  me  from  college,  that  at  a 
party  the  other  night,  he  happened  to  mention  (incident 
ally,  of  course)  that  '  Flov  '  was  his  cousin,  when  some 
one  near  him  remarked,  '  I  should  think  the  less  said 
about  that,  by  '  Floy's  '  relatives,  the  better.'  It  frets 
Hyacinth  to  a  frenzy  to  have  her  poverty  alluded  to. 
He  told  me  that  he  had  taken  the  most  incredible  pains  to 
conciliate  editors  whom  he  despised,  merely  to  prevent 
any  allusion  to  it  in  their  columns.  I,  myself,  have  sent 
several  anonymous  paragraphs  to  the  papers  for  inser 
tion,  contradicting  the  current  reports,  and  saying  that 
' '  Floy  '  lost  her  self-respect  before  she  lost  her  friends.' 
I  don't  suppose  that  was  quite  right,  but  I  must  have  an 
eye  to  my  practice,  you  know,  and  it  might  injure  me  if 
the  truth  were  known.  I  find  it  very  difficult,  too,  to  get 
any  adverse  paragraph  in,  she  is  getting  to  be  such  a  favor 
ite  (i.  e.  anywhere  where  it  will  tell;)  the  little  scurri 
lous  papers,  you  know,  have  no  influence. 

"  It  is  very  expensive  living  here  ;  I  am  quite  out  of 
pocket.  If  you  can  get  anything  from  father,  I  wish 
you  would.  Hyacinth  says  I  must  marry  a  rich  wife  as 
he  did,  when  I  get  cornered  by  duns.  Perhaps  I  may, 
but  your  rich  girls  are  invariably  homely,  and  I  have  an 
eye  for  beauty.  Still  there 's  no  knowing  what  gilded 
pill  I  may  be  tempted  to  swallow  if  I  don't  get  into  prac 
tice  pretty  soon.  Hyacinth's  wife  makes  too  many  al- 


382  RUTH      HALL. 

lusions  to  '  her  family'  to  suit  me  (or  Hyacinth  eithe 
if  the  truth  must  be  told,  but  he  hates  a  dun  worse,  s( 
that  squares  it,  I  suppose).     Love  to  Leila. 

"  Your  affectionate  son,  JOHN  MILLET." 


CHAPTER    LXXXVI. 

'•  C\  GOD  afternoon,   Mrs.   Hall,"   said   one  of  the  old 

^  lady's  neighbors  ;  "  here  is  the  Look  you  lent  me. 
I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  it.  I  like  it  better  than 
any  book  I  have  read  for  a  long  while.  You  said  truly 
that  if  I  once  began  it,  I  should  not  lay  it  down  till  I 
had  finished  it." 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  lady,  "I  don't  often  read  a  book 
now-a-days  ;  my  eyes  are  not  very  strong,  (blue  eyes  sel 
dom  are,  I  believe,"  said  she,  fearing  lest  her  visitoi 
should  suspect  old  Time  had  been  blurring  them  ;)  u  but 
that  book,  now,  just  suits  me  ;  there  is  common-sense  iii 
it.  Whoever  wrote  that  book  is  a  good  writer,  and  - 
hope  she  will  give  us  another  just  like  it.  '  Floy'  is  a 
queer  name  ;  I  don't  recollect  ever  hearing  it  before.  I 
wonder  who  she  is." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  visitor ;  "  and  what  is  more,  I 
mean  to  find  out.  Oh,  here  comes  Squire  Dana's  son  ; 


384  RUTH       HALL. 

he  knows  everything.  I  '11  ask  him.  Yes,  there  he 
comes  into  the  gate ;  fine  young  man  Mr.  Dana.  They 
do  say  he  *s  making  up  to  Sarah  Jilson,  the  lawyer's 
daughter  ;  good  match,  too." 

"  Good  afternoon,"  said  both  the  ladies  in  a  breath ; 
"  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Dana ;  folks  well  ?  That 's  right. 
We  have  just  been  saying  that  you  could  tell  us  who 
'  Floy,'  the  author  of  that  charming  book,  '  Life  Sketch 
es,'  really  is." 

"  You  are  inclined  to  quiz  me,"  said  Mr.  Dana.  "  I 
think  it  should  be  you  who  should  give  me  that  informa 
tion." 

"  Us  ?"  exclaimed  both  the  old  ladies  ;  "  us  ?  we  have 
not  the  slightest  idea  who  she  is ;  we  only  admire  her 
book." 

"  Well,  then,  I  have  an  unexpected  pleasure  to  bestow," 
said  Mr.  Dana,  rubbing  his  hands  in  great  glee.  "  Allow 
me  to  inform  you,  Mrs.  Hall,  that  '  Floy'  is  no  more, 
nor  less,  than  your  daughter-in-law, — Ruth." 

"  /^possible !"  screamed  the  old  lady,  growing  very 
red  in  the  face,  and  clearing  her  throat  most  vigor 
ously. 

"  I  assure  you  it  is  true.  My  informant  is  quite  relia 
ble.  I  am  glad  you  admire  your  daughter-in-law's  book, 
Mrs.  Hall ;  I  quite  share  the  feeling  with  you." 

"  But  I  don't  admire  it,"  said  the  old  lady,  growing 
every  moment  more  confused ;  "  there  are  several  things 


RUTH       HALL.  385 

in  it,  now  I  think  of  them,  vhich  I  consider  highly  im 
moral.  I  think  I  mentionc  1  them  to  you,  Mrs.  Spear," 
said  she,  (trusting  to  that  lady's  defective  memory,)  "  at 
the  time  I  lent  it  to  you." 

"  Oh  no,  you  did  n't,"  replied  Mrs.  Spear  ;  "  you  said 
it  was  one  of  the  best  and  most  interesting  books  you 
ever  read,  else  I  should  not  have  borrowed  it.  I  am 
very  particular  what  I  put  i-i  my  children's  way." 

"Well,  I  couldn't  have  >3en  thinking  of  what  I  was 
saying,"  said  the  old  lady  ;  "  the  book  is  very  silly,  a 
great  part  of  it,  beside  bein<y  very  bold,  for  a  woman,  and 
as  I  said  before,  really  immoral." 

"  It  is  highly  recomrner  !!ed  by  the  religious  press,v 
said  Mr.  Dana,  infinitely  ai-.used  at  the  old  lady's  sud 
den  change  of  opinion. 

"  You  can't  tell/'  said  the  old  lady  ;  "  I  have  no  doubt 
she  wrote  those  notices  here  If." 

"  She  has  made  an  ample  fortune,  at  any  rate,"  said 
the  young  man  ;  "  more  tb  n  I  ever  expect  to  make,  if  I 
should  scribble  till  dooms-c1  v." 

"  Don't  believe  it,"  said  the  old  lady,  fidgeting  in  her 
chair  ;  "  or,  if  she  has,  it  w<  vi't  last  long." 

"  In  that  case  she  has  onl;  to  write  another  book,"  saii 
the  persistent  Mr.  Dana ;  "  her  books  will  always  find  a 
ready  market." 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  th©  old  lady  bridling  ;  "  it  is  my 

opinion  she  '11  go  out  like  t'-ie  wick  of  a  candle.     People 
17 


386  RUTH       HALL. 

won't  read  a  second  edition  of  such  trash.  Ruth  Hall 
'  Floy'  ?  Humph !  that  accounts, — humph  !  Well,  any 
how,  if  she  has  made  money,  she  had  her  nose  held  to 
the  grindstone  pretty  well  first ;  that  "s  one  comfort. 
She  'Floy'?  Humph!  That  accounts.  Well,  some 
times  money  is  given  for  a  curse  ;  I  Ve  heern  tell  of  such 
things. 

" — Yes,  yes,  I  Ve  heern  tell  of  such  things,"  muttered 
the  old  lady,  patting  her  foot,  as  her  two  visitors  left. 
"  Dreadful  grand,  Ruth — '  Floy'  feels  now,  I  suppose.  A 
sight  of  money  she  's  made,  has  she  ?  A  great  deal  she 
knows  how  to  invest  it.  Invest  it !  What 's  the  use  of 
talking  about  that  ?  It  will  be  invested  on  her  back,  in 
silk  gowns,  laces,  frumpery,  and  such  things.  I  have  n't  a 
silk  gown  in  the  world.  The  least  she  could  do,  would 
be  to  send  me  one,  for  the  care  of  that  child. 

" — Yes,  laces  and  feathers,  feathers  and  laces.  The 
children,  too,  all  tricked  out  like  little  monkeys,  with 
long  ostrich  legs,  and  short,  bob-tailed  skirts  standing  out 
Jike  opery  girls,  and  whole  yards  of  ribbin  streaming 
from  their  hair,  I  '11  warrant.  The  Catechize  clean  driven 
out  of  Katy's  head.  Should  n't  be  at  all  astonished  if 
they  went  to  dancing  school,  or  any  other  immoral  place. 

"  — Wonder  where  they  '11  live  1  In  some  grand 
hotel,  of  course ;  dinner  at  six  o'clock,  black  servants, 
gold  salt-cellars  and  finger-glasses  ;  nothing  short  of 
that'll  suit  now  ;  humph.  Shouldn't  be  astonished  any 


RUTH       HALL. 


387 


day  to  hear  Ruth  kept  a  carriage  and  servants  in  livery, 
or  had  been  to  Victory's  Court  in  lappets  and  diamonds. 
She  's  just  impudent  enough  to  do  it.  She  isn't  afraid 
of  anybody  nor  anything.  Dare  say  she  will  marry  some 
Count  or  Duke  ;  she  has  no  more  principle. 

"  — Humph  !  I  suppose  she  is  crowing  well  over  me. 
V-c-r-y  w-e-1-1 ;  the  wheel  may  turn  round  again,  who 
knows  ?  In  fact,  I  am  sure  of  it.  How  glad  I  should  be  ! 
Well,  I  must  say,  I  did  n't  think  she  had  so  much  perse 
verance.  I  expected  she'd  just  sit  down,  after  awhile, 
and  fret  herself  to  death,  and  be  well  out  of  the  way. 

" — 'Floy'!  humph.  I  suppose  I  shan't  take  up  a 
newspaper  now  without  getting  a  dose  about  her.  I  dare 
say  that  spiteful  young  Dana  will  call  here  again  just  to 
rile  me  up  by  praising  her.  What  a  fool  I  was  to  get 
taken  in  so  about  that  book.  But  how  should  I  know  it 
was  hers  1  I  should  as  soon  have  thought  of  her  turn 
ing  out  Mrs.  Bonaparte,  as  an  authoress.  Authoress  ! 
Humph  !  Wonder  how  the  heels  of  her  stockings  look  ? 
Spose  she  wears  silk  ones  now,  and  French  shoes ;  she 
was  always  as  proud  as  Lucifer  of  her  foot. 

"  — Well,  I  must  say,  (as  long  as  there  's  nobody  here 
to  hear  me,)  that  she  beats  all.  Humph  !  She  '11  col 
lapse,  though  ;  there  's  no  doubt  of  that.  I  Ve  heard  of 
balloons  that  alighted  in  mud-puddles." 


CHAPTER  IXXXVII. 


OOD  morning,  Mr.  Ellet !"  said  Mr.  Jones1  making 
an  attempt  at  a  bow,  which  the  stiffness  of  his  shirt- 
collar  rendered  entirely  abortive  ;  "  how  d  'ye  do  ?" 

"  Oh,  how  are  you,  Mr.  Jones  ?  I  was  just  look 
ing  over  the  Household  Messenger  here,  reading  my 
daughter  'Floy's'  pieces,  and  thinking  what  a  great 
thing  it  is  for  a  child  to  have  a  good  father.  'Floy' 
was  carefully  brought  up  and  instructed,  and  this,  you 
see,  is  the  result.  I  have  been  reading  several  of  her 
pieces  to  a  clergyman,  who  was  in  here  just  now.  I  keep 
them  on  hand  in  my  pocket-book,  to  exhibit  as  a  proof 
of  what  early  parental  education  and  guidance  may  do  in 
developing  latent  talent,  and  giving  the  mind  a  right  di 
rection." 

"  I  was  not  aware  '  Floy'  was  your  daughter,"  replied 
Mr.  Jones ;  "  do  you  know  what  time  she  commenced 
writing  *?  what  was  the  title  of  her  first  article  and  what 
was  her  remuneration  ?" 


RUTH       HALL.  389 

"  Sir  V  said  Mr.  Ellet,  wishing  to  gain  a  little  time, 
and  looking  very  confused. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  not  ask  such  questions,"  said  the  in 
nocent  Mr.  Jones,  mistaking  the  cause  of  Mr.  Ellet's  hesi 
tation  ;  "  but  I  felt  a  little  curiosity  to  know  something  of 
her  early  progress.  What  a  strong  desire  you  must  have 
felt  for  her  ultimate  success ;  and  how  much  your  influence 
and  sympathy  must  have  assisted  her.  Do  you  know 
whether  her  remuneration  at  the  commencement  of  her 
career  as  a  writer,  was  above  the  ordinary  average  of 
pay?" 

"  Yes — -no — really,  Mr.  Jones,  I  will  not  venture  to 
say,  lest  I  should  make  a  mistake  ;  my  memory  is  apt  to 
be  so  treacherous." 

"  She  wrote  merely  for  amusement,  I  suppose  ;  there 
could  be  no  necessity  in  your  daughter's  case,"  said  the 
blundering  Mr.  Jones. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Ellet. 

"  It  is  astonishing  how  she  can  write  so  feelingly  about 
the  poor,"  said  Mr.  Jones ;  "  it  is  so  seldom  that  an 
author  succeeds  in  depicting  truthfully  those  scenes  for 
which  he  draws  solely  upon  the  imagination." 

"  My  daughter,  '  Floy,'  has  a  very  vivid  imagination," 
replied  Mr.  Ellet,  nervously.  "  Women  generally  have, 
I  believe ;  they  are  said  to  excel  our  sex  in  word-paint- 
ing." 

"  I  don't  know  but  it  may  be  so,"  said  Jones.    "  '  Floy' 


390  RUTH       HALL. 

certainly  possesses  it  in  an  uncommon  degree.  It  is  diffi 
cult  else  to  imagine,  as  I  said  before,  how  a  person,  who 
has  always  been  surrounded  with  comfort  and  luxury, 
could  describe  so  feelingly  the  other  side  of  the  picture. 
It  is  remarkable.  Do  you  know  how  much  she  has  real 
ized  by  her  writings  ?" 

"  There,  again,"  said  the  disturbed  Mr.  Ellet,  "  my 
memory  is  at  fault ;  I  am  not  good  at  statistics." 

"  Some  thousands,  I  suppose,"  replied  Mr.  Jones. 
"  Well,  how  true  it  is,  that  '  to  him  who  hath  shall  be 
given !'  Now,  here  is  your  literary  daughter,  who  has  no 
need  of  money,  realizes  a  fortune  by  her  books,  while 
many  a  destitute  and  talented  writer  starves  on  a  crust." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Ellet,  "  the  ways  of  Providence  are 
inscrutable." 


CHAPTER    LXXXVIII. 


"  T71EMALE  literature  seems  to  be  all  the  rage  now,1' 
-*-  remarked  a  gentleman,  who  was  turning  over  the 
volumes  in  Mr.  Develin's  book  store,  No.  6  Literary 
Row.  "  Who  are  your  most  successful  lady  authors  ?" 

"  Miss  Pyne,"  said  Mr.  Develin,  "  authoress  of  '  Shad 
ows,'  Miss  Taft,  authoress  of  '  Sunbeams,'  and  Miss  Bit- 
man,  authoress  of '  Fairyland.'  " 

'•  I  have  been  told,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  that  '  Life 
Sketches,'  by  '  Floy,'  has  had  an  immense  sale — a  larger 
one,  in  fact,  than  any  of  the  others  ;  is  that  so '?" 

"  It  has  had  a  tolerable  sale,"  answered  Mr.  Develin, 
coldly.  "  I  might  have  published  it,  I  suppose,  had  I  ap 
plied  ;  but  I  had  a  very  indifferent  opinion  of  the  literary 
talent  of  the  authoress.  The  little  popularity  it  has  had, 
is  undoubtedly  owing  to  the  writer  being  a  sister  of  Hya 
cinth  Ellet,  the  Editor  of  '  The  Irving  Magazine.'  " 

"  But  is  she  his  sister,"  said  the  gentleman  ;  "  there  are 


392  RUTH       HALL. 

many  rumors  afloat ;  one  hardly  knows  what  to  be 
lieve." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Develin ;  « in  fact,  I,  myself, 
know  it  to  be  true.  '  Floy'  is  his  sister ;  and  it  is  alto 
gether  owing  to  the  transferring  of  her  articles,  by  him, 
to  the  columns  of  his  paper,  and  his  liberal  endorsement 
of  them,  that  she  has  had  any  success." 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  gentleman ;  "  why  I  was  a  sub 
scriber  both  for  i  The  Standard,'  when  her  first  article  ap 
peared  in  it,  and  also  for  '  The  Irving  Magazine,'  and  I  am 
very  sure  that  nothing  of  hers  was  copied  in  the  latter  until 
she  had  acquired  an  enviable  popularity  all  over  the  Union. 
No,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  (for  it  was  he,)  "  I  know  a 
great  deal  more  about  '  Floy'  and  her  writings  than  you 
can  tell  me,  and  some  little  about  yourself  I  have  often 
heard  of  the  version  you  give  of  this  matter,  and  I  came 
in  to  satisfy  myself  if  it  had  been  correctly  reported  to 
me.  Now,  allow  me  to  set  you  right,  sir,"  said  he,  with  a 
stern  look.  "  The  Editor  of '  The  Irving  Magazine  '  never 
recognized  '  Floy'  as  his  sister,  till  the  universal  popular 
voice  had  pronounced  its  verdict  in  her  favor.  Then, 
when  the  steam  was  up,  and  the  locomotive  whizzing  past, 
he  jumps  on,  and  says,  '  how  fast  we  go  !'  " 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Develin, 
with  a  faint  attempt  to  retain  his  position. 

"  I  am  not  mistaken,  sir ;  I  know,  personally,  that  in 
the  commencement  of  her  literary  career,  when  one  or  two 


RUTH      HALL.  393 

articles  of  hers  were  copied  into  his  paper  by  an  assistant 
in  the  office,  he  positively  forbade  her  nom  de  plume 
being  again  mentioned,  or  another  of  her  articles  copied 
into  the  Irving  Magazine.  He  is  a  miserable  time-server, 
sir.  Fashion  is  his  God ;  he  recognizes  only  the  drawing- 
room  side  of  human  nature.  Sorrow  in  satin  he  can 
sympathize  with,  but  sorrow  in  rags  is  too  plebeian  for 
his  exquisite  organization. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Develin ;  good  morning,  sir. 
The  next  time  I  hear  of  your  giving  a  version  of  this 
matter,  I  trust  it  will  be  a  correct  one,"  added  he  with  a 
stern  look. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Walter,  as  he  walked  down 
street,  "  of  all  mean  meanness  of  which  a  man  can  be 
guilty,  the  meanest,  in  my  estimation,  is  to  rob  a  woman 
of  her  justly-earned  literary  fame,  and  I  wish,  for  the 
credit  of  human  nature,  it  were  confined  to  persons  of  as 
limited  mental  endowments  and  influence  as  the  one  I 
have  just  left." 

17* 


CHAPTER  IXXXIX. 

,  how  frightened  I  was  !"  exclaimed  Nettie,  as  her 
mother  applied  some  healing  salve  to  a  slight  burn 
on  her  arm  ;  "  how  frightened  I  was,  at  that  fire  !" 

"  You  mean,  how  frightened  you  were  after  the  fire," 
replied  her  mother,  smiling ;  "  you  were  so  bewildered, 
waking  up  out  of  that  sound  sleep,  that  I  fancy  you  did 
not  understand  much  about  the  danger  till  after  good 
Johnny  Gait  saved  you." 

"  If  I  did  not  love  Neddy  so  much,  I  should  certainly 
give  Johnny  Gait  my  picture,"  said  Nettie,  with  a  sudden 
outburst  of  enthusiasm. 

"I  will  see  that  Johnny  Gait  is  rewarded,"  replied 
Ruth.  "  But  this  is  the  day  Mr.  Walter  was  to  have 
come.  I  hope  Johnny  Gait  will  meet  him  at  the  Depot 
as  he  promised,  else  he  wTl  be  so  alarmed  about  our 
safety  when  he  learns  of  the  f  re.  Dear  me  !  how  the  rain 
comes  down,  it  looks  as  though  it  meant  to  persevere." 


RUTH      HALL.  305 

"  Yes,  and  pour-severe  too,"  said  Nettie,  with  an  arch 
look  at  her  mother. 

Katy  and  Ruth  had  not  finished  laughing  at  this  sally, 
when  Mr.  Walter  was  announced. 

His  greeting  was  grave,  for  he  trembled  to  think  of  the 
danger  they  had  escaped.  After  mutual  congratulations 
had  been  exchanged,  a  detailed  account  of  their  escape 
given,  and  Johnny  Gait's  heroism  duly  extolled,  Mr. 
Walter  said  : 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  find  you  so  comfortably  housed 
after  the  fire ;  but  the  sooner  I  take  all  of  you  under  my 
charge,  the  better,  I  think.  What  do  you  say  to  start 
ing  for to-morrow  ?  Are  you  sufficiently  recov 
ered  from  your  fright  and  fatigue  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Ruth,  laughing ;  "  do  we  not  look  as 
good  as  new  1  Our  wardrobe,  to  be  sure,  is  in  rather  a 
slender  condition  ;  but  that  is  much  easier  remedied  than 
a  slender  purse,  as  I  have  good  reason  to  know." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Walter  ;  "  it  is  understood 
that  we  go  to-morrow.  I  have  some  business  to  look 
after  in  the  morning ;  shall  you  object  to  waiting  till  after 
dinner?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Ruth.  "  In  my  opiuion,  nothing 
can  equal  the  forlornness  of  forsaking  a  warm  bed,  to 
start  breakfastless  on  a  journey,  with  one's  eyes  half 
open." 

"  '  Floy,'  "  said  Mr.  Walter,  taking  a  package  from  his 


396  RUTH      HALL. 

pocket,  "  I  have  obeyed  your  directions,  and  here  is 
something  which  you  may  well  be  proud  of;"  and  he 
handed  Ruth  a  paper.  It  ran  thus  : 


c£>  c£>  c£>  cfe  c£>  c£>  cp  <£>  cp  cp  cp  cp  cp  cp  cb  cp  cp  cp  cp  cp  4=  4s  4s  4=  cp  cp  cp  cp  cp^5^| 

§^ 


IN   THE  CITY  OF 


of ,  is  entitled 

to  one  hundred  shares  of  the  Capital  Stock  of  the  Seton 
Bank,  and  holds  the  same  subject  to  the  conditions  and 
stipulations  contained  in  the  Articles  of  Association  of 
such  Institution;  which  shares  are  transferable  on  the 
Books  of  the  Association  by  the  said  Mrs.  Ruth  Hall  or 
her  Attorney,  on  surrender  of  this  Certificate. 
In  witness  whereof,  &c.,  &c. 


gfr 


"  There,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  laughing,  "  imagine  your 
self,  if  you  can,  in  that  dismal  attic  one  year  ago,  a  bank- 
stock  holder  !  Now  confess  that  you  are  proud  of  your 
self." 

"  We  are  proud  of  her,"  said  the  talkative  Nettie ;  "  if 
she  is  not  proud  of  herself.  Don't  you  think  it  is  too  bad, 
Mr.  Walter,  that  mamma  won't  let  Katy  and  me  tell  that 
'  Floy  '  is  our  mother  1  A  little  girl  who  lived  at  the 
hotel  that  was  burnt  up,  said  to  Katy,  that  her  uncle  had 
just  given  her  Life  Sketches  for  a  birth-day  present,  and 
told  her  that  she  must  try  and  write  as  well  as  '  Floy  ' 
one  of  these  days  ;  and  Katy  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked 


RUTH       HALL.  397 

at  Katy  ;  and  oh,  is  n't  it  too  bad,  Mr.  "Walter,  that  mam 
ma  won't  let  us  tell,  when  we  want  to  so  much  ?" 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Walter,  laughing,  "I  have  only 
one  little  remark  to  make  about  that,  namely,  I  have  no 
doubt  you  two  young  ladies  discovered  some  time  before 
I  did,  that  when  your  mamma  says  No,  there  is  an  end  to 
all  argument." 


CHAPTER  XC. 


nnHE  morning  of  the  next  day  was  bright  and  fair.  Af- 
ter  dinner  our  travelling  party  entered  the  carriage 
in  waiting,  and  proceeded  on  their  way ;  the  children  chat 
tering  as  usual,  like  little  magpies,  and  Ruth  and  Mr. 
Walter  occupied  with  their  own  solitary  reflections. 

One  of  the  greatest  luxuries  of  true  friendship  is  the 
perfect  freedom  one  feels,  irrespective  of  the  presence  of 
another,  to  indulge  in  the  mood  of  the  moment — whether 
that  mood  be  grave  or  gay,  taciturn  or  loquacious,  the  un 
speakable  deliciousness  of  being  reprieved  from  talking  at 
a  mark,  hampered  by  no  fear  of  incivility  or  discourtesy. 
Ruth  had  found  this  a  great  charm  in  the  society  of  Mr. 
Walter,  who  seemed  perfectly  to  understand  and  sympa 
thize  with  her  varied  moods.  On  the  present  occasion 
she  particularly  felt  its  value — oppressed  as  she  was  by 
the  rush  of  thoughts,  retrospective  and  anticipatory — 
standing  as  it  were  on  the  threshold  of  a  new  epoch  in 
her  changing  existence. 


RUTH       HALL.  399 

"  Where  are  we  going,  mother  ?"  asked  Katy,  as  the 
carriage  passed  through  a  stone-gateway,  and  down  a  dim 
avenue  of  ancient  trees. 

"To  dear  papa's  grave,"  replied  Ruth,  "before  we 
leave  this  part  of  the  country." 

"  Yes  !"  murmured  Katy,  in  a  low  whisper. 


It  was  very  beautiful,  that  old  avenue  of  pine  trees, 
through  which  the  setting  sun  was  struggling  faintly,  now 
resting  like  a  halo  on  some  moss-grown  grave-stone,  now 
gilding  some  more  ambitious  monument  of  Mammon's 
raising.  The  winding  cemetery  paths,  thronged  by  day 
with  careless  feet,  were  silent  now.  No  lightsome 
laughter  echoed  through  those  leafy  dells,  grating  upon 
the  ear  which  almost  listened  for  the  loved  voice.  No 
strange  eye,  with  curious  gaze,  followed  the  thoughtful 
group,  speculating  upon  their  heart's  hidden  history  ;  but, 
now  and  then,  a  little  loitering  bird,  tempted  beyond  its 
mate  to  lengthen  its  evening  flight,  flitted,  with  a  brief 
gush  of  song,  across  their  pathway.  Hushed,  holy,  and 
unprofaned,  was  this  Sabbath  of  the  dead !  Aching 
hearts  here  throbbed  with  pain  no  longer ;  weary  feet 
were  still ;  busy  hands  lay  idly  crossed  over  tired 
breasts ;  babes,  who  had  poised  one  tiny  foot  on  life's 


400  RUTH      HALL. 

turbid  ocean  brink,  then  shrank  back  affrighted  at  its 
surging  waves,  here  slept  their  peaceful  sleep. 

The  moon  had  silvered  the  old  chapel  turrets,  and  the 
little  nodding  flowers  glistened  with  dew-drops,  but  still 
Euth  lingered.  Old  memories  were  thronging,  thick  and 
fast,  upon  her ; — past  joys — past  sorrows — past  suffer 
ings  ; — and  yet  the  heart,  which  felt  them  all  so  keenly, 
would  soon  lie  pulseless  amid  these  mouldering  thou 
sands.  There  was  a  vacant  place  left  by  the  side  of 
Harry.  Ruth's  eye  rested  on  it — then  on  her  children 
— then  on  Mr.  Walter. 

"  So  help  me  God,"  reverently  murmured  the  latter, 
interpreting  the  mute  appeal. 

As  the  carriage  rolled  from  under  the  old  stone  gate 
way,  a  little  bird,  startled  from  out  its  leafy  nest,  trilled 
forth  a  song  as  sweet  and  clear  as  the  lark's  at  heaven's 
own  blessed  gate. 

"  Accept  the  omen,  dear  Ruth,"  said  Mr.  Walter. 
"  Life  has  much  of  harmony  yet  in  store  for  you." 


THE    END. 


164 


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